


The Theatre of War

by MissSuzeH



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Family Drama, More Mills & Boon than Die Hard, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Slow Burn in places fast in others
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-13 18:56:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 118
Words: 330,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5713438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissSuzeH/pseuds/MissSuzeH
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione turned her back on the Wizarding World. She is enticed back by an offer she can’t refuse. Lucius Malfoy is again Lucius Malfoy. But he carries the invisible scars of war, which he can’t see. Their paths are destined to cross. The story is more Barbara Cartland than Alistair Maclean, so if you are looking for fast paced, intricate plotting this isn't the story for you.</p><p>Story starts in 2 parts; the 2 worlds will collide. It will be a Hermione & Lucius story. Is rated for adult content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of The End

**Author's Note:**

> This story starts in two parts. The two worlds will of course eventually collide. I hope the intros etc speak for themselves, but if anyone is confused etc I will endeavour to un-complicate things.
> 
> This is a very new venture for me so I hope that you will like it. I do not profess to be an expert in either field here, but research has been done, but please excuse any errors in either one. And of course grammatical etc.
> 
> Feedback and constructive comments/criticism are always welcome, they keep a girl going.

 

**Part One ~ The Malfoys**

Chapter 1 ~ The Beginning of the End

Lucius Malfoy straightened his spine. His pale grey eyes narrowing, his nostrils flaring as he lifted his aristocratic head with haughty disdain. His mellifluous platinum blonde hair cascaded about his broad shoulders with the imperceptible movement.  His long slim fingers tightened around the cold silver of his serpent headed cane. The chips of emerald green, which filled the eye sockets, glinted as coldly and bitterly as its masters.

Large icy flakes of snow continued to fall, drifting past the panelled pane of glass which looked from the master bedroom of Malfoy Manor, and out over the spacious well-kept gardens. He watched unemotionally as his wife Narcissa’s petite frame slowly disappeared into the distance. Reaching the apparition point, her small dark figure vanished.

 

**_Four Months Earlier………_ **

_Family was everything to Narcissa Malfoy, and she would protect them with her dying breath. She had naïvely assumed, with the demise of The Dark Lord, at the hands of Harry Potter, and the end of the second wizarding war, hers and her family’s lives would once more return to normal.  Narcissa had both her husband and her son safely back, but both of them were changed **men**. _

_The war had ended just over a year ago, and whilst on the surface, everything looked normal enough, things behind closed doors at Malfoy Manor were anything but:  Autumn was almost upon them once more. The shorter, darker days were fast approaching, and Narcissa Malfoy was filled with an overriding sense of dread, wondering just how much more she could endure._

_Her son was still floundering, not knowing where his future lay or how to put his past behind him. But as a mother, she knew, with her help and her love, the invisible scars of war that he bore, would eventually heal. But Draco was a young man now, his mother’s love, whilst important, was simply not enough. He needed the strength and guidance of his father.  No matter how she tried to ignore it, Narcissa Malfoy knew, at this moment in time, her husband possessed neither, to help their son. Whatever outward appearances he might portray, she feared, Lucius was struggling to find the strength to keep himself going, and was in need of some guidance of his own._

_She felt his pain, she felt it twice over, even if it was not physical. But whilst she sensed it was there, she couldn’t share it, he would not allow her to. The barriers he had erected around himself became harder and harder to surmount.  Each day, she found herself falling deeper and deeper into an overwhelming void of helplessness._

_Initially the Malfoy matriarch had feared for her son, even kept him away from Lucius. His relationship, what there was of it with his father, was already strained. She knew, Lucius would never hurt Draco, not physically at least, but, harsh words, denunciation and blame from his father were not what their son needed. Could she trust Lucius? His own mental state, despite the haughty façade of implacability he wore, seeming at times, dare she say, as fragile as Draco’s. Thinking perhaps their shared failures might give them common ground, bring them closer, she had gone to her husband._

_“Draco needs you Lucius. Help him.” She had beseeched him._

_Lucius Malfoy rarely raised his voice in anger, he had no need to. His quietly menacing and chilling aristocratic tones nearly always sufficient. A look of censure, coupled with a raised dark blonde eyebrow, or a lip curled in that infamous Malfoy sneer, were enough to strike fear into the most formidable of adversaries, or silence the darkest of souls. Lately those tones had become quieter and even more chilling. But with them had come a darkness that Narcissa had never seen in her husband before, especially when directed at her, or their son. Fear once more scratched at her bones, at the cold empty look in his ever beautiful, silver grey eyes._

_Narcissa blanched, her already pale skin, whitening yet further. Her husband had been understandably quiet and withdrawn on his release from Azkaban. But his shame and suffering, had been compounded at the hands of the Dark Lord. Humiliating him, not only in front of his peers, in his own home, but also in front of his son. Something about which Lucius Malfoy had never spoken, but something which had affected him deeply, something which now stopped him reaching out to his own son._

_“Please, just talk to him.” She had pressed with a calmness she didn’t feel._

_Narcissa was no expert in the workings of the human mind, but one thing she did know was her husband, she knew how **his** mind worked. Everything about the formidable dark wizard was steeped in tradition, the old ways. It had been borne into him. What hadn’t been borne in him had been taught, or drummed into him by his own relentless and unforgiving father, Abraxas Malfoy.  Upholding those family traditions, and the Malfoy name, were all that were important to him. He had ruled his family and especially his son by fear._

_Failure was not an option under any circumstances. But Lucius had failed, and by his own father’s standards, he had failed spectacularly.  Abraxas Malfoy might have been a long time dead, but Narcissa knew that her husband was still fighting those demons, those ghosts, and was profoundly ashamed of how he would look in Abraxas’ eyes.  Lucius had always fought to make his father proud, and to above all else uphold the precious family name. In his own eyes, he had done neither._

_“What could I possibly say to our son that would help him?” His voice was flat, taciturn and biting._

_Narcissa knew well enough the question was rhetorical, and remained silent. Her blue eyes sparkling with emotion, silently imploring her husband._

_“I have no words of encouragement. No well-placed offerings of deeds well done. My son has nothing to respect or to be proud of.”_

_“Lucius” Her small hand reached out, grasping the sleeve of his dark robes, squeezing his arm in encouragement. Her heart ached for the man she loved._

_“You are his father. He loves you whatever. Right now, he is hurt, he is lost, he needs your reassurance. Your guidance.”_

_A disdainful, sneer crossed Lucius’ face as he slowly withdrew his arm from her touch: “And yet he listens only to his mother.”_

_Narcissa’s aching heart sank. Like Abraxas Malfoy, Lucius could be an unforgiving man with a very long memory._

_His failure at the Department of Mysteries to gain the prophecy from the Potter boy, had seen Draco charged with an even darker deed of his own. It had been down to Narcissa to plead with her husband’s old friend Severus Snape for help. Her request, further emasculating and shaming her incarcerated husband.  Following the final Battle at Hogwarts, the relationship between father and son had deteriorated yet further. Draco clearly having little or no respect for his once powerful and feared father, and having no compunction in showing his own contempt.  In front of all of the Dark Lord’s followers and his school friends, Draco had ignored his father, responding only to his mother’s quiet but firm request to “Come”. Impacting yet further embarrassment upon Lucius._

_For the sake of their son, Narcissa fought the fear rising in her blood. Fought, the pain that gripped her heart at his recoil. She continued to plead with her husband, tears brimming in her blue eyes. Assuring him quickly, as his grey eyes glittered with annoyance, he didn’t need to attend to the task immediately, but perhaps when he was feeling a little more like himself._

_As he had done on many previous occasions over the previous months, Lucius tersely assured his anxious and tearful wife that he was perfectly alright, that there was nothing wrong with him. His anger rising as her tears finally spilled onto her cheeks._

_“Lucius please I…..”_

_His aristocratic tones took on that clipped chilling timbre as he told her. “Woman, silence becomes a woman.”_

_Narcissa was mortified, Lucius had never spoken to her in such a manner before. For all of his faults, his reaction and treatment of her was totally out of character. Whatever Lucius Malfoy might say, Narcissa was now more convinced than ever that there was something very wrong. That void of overwhelming helplessness became yet deeper still._

 


	2. My Life, My Pride & My Joy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part One continues with the second Chapter of the Malfoy's story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for comments, kudos etc. I really hope you will enjoy this story. It will take a while to come together but fingers crossed I will spike your interest. 
> 
> As ever apologies for errors, etc in whatever format they might take. The title of this Chapter comes from a song called "My Boy" just in case you are interested.

Lucius Malfoy continued to gaze out over the now deserted gardens. The snow still fell heavily and silently, in the darkness of the late evening, it cloaked the gardens in a peculiar bright whiteness. All the while his world became further cloaked in a hateful dull blackness that refused to go away.  Like the snow, it became thicker, and the dark wizard wondered if it would ever stop. He scoured the dark recesses of his mind, wondering how he had got to this point.

 

**_Three Months Earlier……………_ **

_Despite Lucius’ hurtful verbal assault, Narcissa would not be, **could not be** deterred, for Draco’s sake she had to get through to her husband. No matter what it took, no matter what the cost._

_Narcissa hadn’t lied to Lucius when she had told him, Draco loved him, of course he did, their son had been instrumental in getting his father freed from Azkaban. Even if the outcome had not necessarily been the desired one._

_From birth, Draco Malfoy had been the apple of his father’s eye, as a small boy Draco had adored his father, worshiping the ground he walked on, and that feeling was clearly mutual. Whatever happened, that was truly, an unbreakable bond._

_Lucius was no Abraxas Malfoy. He was a strong disciplinarian when it came to Draco, but he did not rule his son with fear, although to those on the outside, he might appear a bully.  Narcissa knew that everything her husband did for their son, he did out of love, at least, the only way he knew how to show it. Sometimes that was with money, sometimes with power, sometimes with the Malfoy name, but he only ever wanted what was best for the boy. Lucius had even risked the wrath of the Dark Lord, his own life, to ensure the safety of their son, these were hardly the actions of a man who did not care, but Narcissa knew Lucius not caring wasn’t the issue at the heart of the problem. Lucius felt his son no longer had any respect for him, and to a man like Lucius Malfoy, respect was more important than love._

_Narcissa sat in the walled garden, it was truly beautiful at this time of year, the very last remnants of the late summer sunshine still keeping it just about warm enough to sit in. She had been wracking her brains all day, trying to come up with something, some way of getting Lucius to help Draco. So desperate was she, she even contemplated putting her husband under the Imperious Curse. The possible repercussions making her think twice about it.  Lucius’ dismissive words rang in her ears._

_“My son has nothing to respect, or to be proud of.”_

_She knew that wasn’t true, but Lucius had obviously convinced himself otherwise. Like Abraxas Malfoy, everything was wrapped up in the name, the power, the…….._

_“That’s it” She said aloud, almost jumping from the small seat. “That’s it.”_

_All she needed to do was give those things back to Lucius. Oh to be able to put the clock back, but Narcissa doubted even a time turner would help. The ironic thing was, if Lucius just had the spirit, the will, he once had, he could get everything back; telling him it was possible and persuading him to even try, was however going to be nigh on impossible. She couldn’t do it for him, Lucius Malfoy was a very proud man, and she had already intervened once too often for his liking, anything else would simply make matters worse. Nor could she push him, especially not the way he was acting right now, Merlin alone knew what he would do._

_An Imperio was actually looking a more favourable option all the time. Unforgivable it might be, but so was seeing her husband and son in such pain, the consequences be damned. Her sister Bellatrix would not have thought twice about it ……..a wry smile suddenly curled Narcissa’s red lips._

_“Of course” she said out loud, smiling brightly at an uncaring water feature. “Bella’s Impyrish Curse, ha why didn’t I think of it before?” She directed her question at the same un-answering stone swan._

_When Bellatrix Black had found out about the Imperious Curse at the tender age of 10, she had, against her younger sister’s pleading, attempted the curse on one of the family’s house elves. Fortunately for the young Black sisters somewhere in the casting, quite possibly the pronunciation, the spell had gone slightly wrong. The hapless house elf who had unwittingly become their test subject, would not do what the two sisters asked, but to their amusement, was very susceptible to the power of suggestion. Giving them endless hours of fun whenever they felt like it. The effects were somewhat short lived, the poor creatures had no idea that they had been placed under a spell, or what had compelled them into their actions, but had embarrassingly full recall of what they’d done._

_Naricssa swallowed nervously, Lucius Malfoy was no house elf; he was a very powerful dark wizard. He was hardly going to allow his wife to back him into a corner and cast a spell on him, it had also been a **very** long time since Narcissa had cast the spell. She and Bella grew tired of it rather quickly, Bella especially, the effects far too soft for her dark mind, even at such a young age. _

_Narcissa contemplated the pros and cons._

_“What do I have to loose, could things really be any worse?” She asked the same stone swan, it’s silence gave her the answer she was looking for._

_“Nothing!” She told it, walking slowly back inside and wondering how she was going to put the inimitable Lucius Malfoy under, what could only be described as such a childish spell. The possible outcome, waylaid her fears, just._

_Fate or to be more accurate Firewhisky intervened. Over the last few months Lucius had taken to enjoying a tipple much earlier in the day, the tipples becoming slightly larger as time went on, she had noticed. Finding her husband dozing very soundly, as it happened in the library, when she slipped in through French doors, was clearly a sign. Taking the horntail, as it were, by the tail, Narcissa decided it was now or never, thinking about it for any length of time would simply prolong the agony, not to mention give her second thoughts._

_Raising her wand slowly, she pointed it at the sleeping wizard. A quick whispered incantation, a powerful suggestion or two, and a tiny childlike flash of palest green sprang from her wand. Lucius stirred slightly in his chair, but to Narcissa’s relief, thankfully he remained asleep. She would have no idea until later if the spell had worked, or if it had gone horribly wrong._

_She didn’t see her husband for dinner, which wasn’t unusual these days, it wasn’t the family gathering it once was. And despite her impatient curiosity, by the time he came to bed she had long since fallen asleep. Lucius was again nowhere to be seen at breakfast the following morning, again this was not unusual, more so on Narcissa’s part, she was not a breakfast person. For her it usually involved coffee and staring sightlessly at a page of the Daily Prophet as her husband studied the business section._

_“Have you seen your father this morning Draco?” She asked her son, as he made himself comfortable at the long dining table with a steaming cup of tea and a plate of scrambled eggs on toast._

_He shook his head uncaringly, his blonde, somewhat unkempt hair tumbling over his eyes. Shrugging his shoulders, he filled his mouth with food._

_Even the way things were between them at the moment, by lunchtime, even in a house the size of Malfoy Manor, usually their paths had crossed, all be it briefly, by early afternoon Narcissa was beginning to get worried, very worried in fact.  Glancing at the antique clock in the hallway it was almost 3.30pm, perhaps she had just missed Lucius and he was enjoying one of those large afternoon tipples and a nap in the Library. As she drew closer to the heavy wooden door she could hear the sound of voices coming from beyond. The very distinctive voices of both her husband and her son, Narcissa’s heart leapt and she suddenly remembered the spell,  in her anxiety for her husband she had in fact forgotten all about it.  Cracking the door very softly and very quietly, the sight within the room elated her and brought tears to her eyes.  A small but bright fire crackled in the huge hearth, the two wing back chairs on either side were occupied by her husband and her son, heavily embroiled in conversation, and looking remarkably at ease with each other._

_She didn’t know what had happened or even how, she wasn’t sure she really cared, the sight before her speaking volumes. Pulling the door quietly to close it, she heard Lucius say to his son._

_“Draco, you are my life, my pride and my joy.”_

_Nothing else mattered._

 


	3. Subtle Seduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa tries to improve her relationship with Lucius.........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for comments & kudos. Apologies as ever for error grammatical or otherwise. As I said this is a very different story from previous fics so I hope you enjoy it.

Lucius Malfoy was practically mesmerised by the snow which continued to fall heavily, the wind had changed direction and the large icy flakes were now coating the window. The odd one melted, trickling down the glass like a frosted tear, he followed its path with his equally cold grey eyes, watching until it was no more. He finally turned, casting those same cold grey eyes at his bed, the expensive white cotton sheets stared back at him, mocking him like the wintery cold which lay outside.

****

**_Two Months Earlier…………._ **

_Happiness had overwhelmed Narcissa Malfoy as she watched Lucius and Draco, once more become father and son. Her heart full of joy for the two men she loved most in the world, she hoped they had reached a turning point and that things would only get better from now on._

_Her casting of the Impyrish spell and the suggestions she had planted in her husband’s head had obviously worked to great effect, secretly she had been rather pleased with herself, but never let it show or be known in any way.  But as Lucius grew closer to their son, began to find his own sense of direction and purpose once more, without the aid of any magic, she found him drifting further away from her. At first she put it down to distractions; having the Malfoy name cleared, his social standing reinstated, not to mention his wealth, brought with it more trials and tribulations for the Malfoy Matriarch. But, she stood by him, helped him, was there for whatever he needed, but despite all of this, Narcissa felt a coldness that she had never known before, the distance between them feeling like a chasm.  As the weeks had slowly turned into months, she found his indifference and aloofness hurtful and so much harder to accept. She couldn’t go on like this._

_Narcissa Malfoy all but glided across the master bedroom she shared with her husband, the word shared, hardly seeming appropriate anymore.  Why, she had come to wonder more often over the last few months, these days they simply, quite literally slept together or occupied the same space, nothing more. Malfoy Manor afforded more than enough rooms that she could move into one of those, but Narcissa felt to do so, would be like giving up on Lucius, giving up on them, on their marriage, and on everything they once had._

_Her bare feet made no sound on the plush carpet as she moved across the large room. The sensual black silk nightgown she wore, shimmered in the half light, clinging lovingly to her slender frame, accentuating her feminine shape perfectly. The delicate lace trim was taut across her pert high breasts; breasts that Lucius had always loved. The low neckline and even lower back, revealing an expanse of flawless alabaster skin; skin which Lucius had stroked almost reverently before now. The darkness of the shade, only highlighting it translucency._

_Amidst the gentle rustle of the expensive fabric, she slipped into the large four poster bed, next to her reclining husband, the soft glow from the crackling hearth and the candles which burned around the opulently decorated master bedroom, indicated whilst repose, he was clearly not asleep._

_Lucius Malfoy may have been her husband for over twenty years, but it didn’t stop the trepidation that flooded Narcissa’s body. Since their early courting days together, and then as husband and wife their relationship had been entirely loving, it had been physical enough to satisfy them both, but she could never have described it as truly passionate. Lucius was an excellent, attentive and considerate lover, he knew how to please her beyond reason, and precisely how to elicit that pleasure, deriving his own pleasure from the giving, as well as the act itself.  But it had never been fervent, nor had it been spontaneous, more controlled, proper even. Whilst Lucius Malfoy clearly adored his wife, there was, due to his breeding and upbringing, a time and a place for everything, being a man, had over the years, often taken second place to both of those and of course, to his duty. A duty that had been fulfilled when that controlled and proper physical relationship had produced a beautiful son and the Malfoy heir, Draco._

_Even after all of their years together, the closeness and intimacy they had enjoyed, for Narcissa to blatantly and wantonly, initiate anything like this between them, was to say the least, a rarity. She was however a woman, and as such, knew just how to subtly arouse her husband to the point of want and need. This was however, very different, as sadly, was the man she was trying to arouse now, both mentally and physically._

_Tension and doubt coursed through her veins as she shifted closer, she knew this man so well, everything about him, both good and bad, and yet, even after all these years, his body was practically a stranger to her. Her thin uncertain fingers coming to rest on his broad chest, as it rose and fell evenly, with a small delicate movement, she traced the pad on her forefinger through the fine spattering of dark blonde hair that covered Lucius Malfoy’s upper body.  She felt an almost shocked intake of breath beneath her hand, but other than that there was little or no response from him, Narcissa’s anxiety only increased. Her petite frame was awash with a myriad of emotions, she still loved the man lying alongside her, her heart beat wildly for him. She still wanted him, heat still burned low in her belly for him, but the icy fingers of fear ghosted over her, cooling that heat and making a heart filled with so much love, race with angst._

_She brushed her full, soft lips to the top of his muscled arm, this was one of those simple actions that had subtly aroused her husband. In the not too distant past, she would have found their positions quickly reversed and that same powerful arousal filling and stretching her, skilfully satisfying her muffled needs, whilst moaning out his own desire, as he spilled forcefully into her._

_Narcissa felt no hastening heartbeat from her husband as her tentative, shaking fingers moved over his chest, no tensing muscles, as they travelled down over his ribcage, to the taut flat planes of his stomach.  She felt the hair beneath them change, from the downy softness on his upper body to the courser thicker on his lower, her hand stilled momentarily, her blue eyes drifting to her husband’s implacable and emotionless face. She fiercely resisted the temptation to pull her hand sharply away and return to what had become her own side of the bed. Determination, mixed with desperation fuelling her actions as she allowed her hand to follow its path and drift to his groin, his warm body, although powerful and amply endowed, remained flaccid and unaroused.  Narcissa stroked him gently, even after all of these years with same man, she was surprisingly unskilled, she had never had to, for want of a better expression, resort to such measurers. And for that matter, had never been encouraged to discover her husband’s body or what aroused him. Of course he enjoyed sex, and when he felt the need, Lucius was always more than ready for his wife, if she needed or desired him, after so many years together Lucius knew the signs and was always happy to satisfy his wife.  Her nerves and unbelievably inexperienced touch, did nothing to help the already awkward and tense situation. There was no desire pulsing through her body, just a crushing sadness that seeped through her veins at the reality of the situation. Beneath her fingers his flesh twitched fleetingly to her touch. Before she heard him whisper the single word that heralded a finality which broke her heart. A wandless spell shrouded them in darkness._

_“No!”_

 


	4. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are far from rosy at Malfoy Manor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for comments and Kudos. I hope you stick with the story it will all come together I promise. Apologies for the usual. Enjoy

Having finally drawn his gaze away from the empty gardens and the shrubs and trees that were shrouded in a blanket of thick white snow, Lucius Malfoy now took in his silent empty bedroom.

In over twenty years the only time he had slept alone, was of course whilst he was incarcerated in Azkaban. He felt he was now in a very different prison, the sentence passed by himself, the room before him now as cold and lonely as his small cell in Azkaban had been.

**_One Month Earlier ………….._ **

_The small rebuttals and rejections had been hard, and had hurt Narcissa deeply, but in truth she’d spent so much of her time concentrating on Draco, concerned for his wellbeing, that initially she hadn’t noticed them. For various reasons they went to bed at different times, so one was always asleep by the time the other retired, it had often been like that in the past._

_She couldn’t really pinpoint when she’d first started to notice the lack of attention from her husband, they’d always been so remarkably in sync with one another. Displays of warmth and affection, all be them in private, had been a matter of course and had just come naturally, well they used to.  In this instance, in her naiveté, when it came to the physical side of their marriage, she just, perhaps foolishly, presumed Lucius was being considerate. She was worried about their son, even about Lucius himself, she was tired, the last thing she wanted or needed was him. But Narcissa did want Lucius, she did need him and she began to miss the intimacy with him._

_His harsh and blatant rejection of her advances a few weeks ago had both devastated and embarrassed her, under different circumstances she might have assumed that Lucius was shocked by her somewhat brazen behaviour, but inexperienced Narcissa might be, an idiot she certainly wasn’t.  She, like anyone else, only needed to be told something once by Lucius Malfoy, especially when the word was “No”._

_Whilst she and Lucius drifted further and further apart, Draco was quite possibly becoming closer to his father than he had ever been. He loved his mother but, he came to her, and relied on her less and less, all Narcissa could do was watch. She couldn’t begrudge the bond between father and son, it was what she wanted, what she had striven for. She didn’t however envisage it would come at such a high price._

_She had seen very little of either her husband or her son over the last few weeks, Draco spent more and more time with his father, either at the Manor or out and about somewhere or another. She had accompanied them a couple of times, but it had been an almost token gesture from Lucius, just requesting her presence for the sake of appearances, which of course he was all for keeping up. To Narcissa that was all everything seemed, simply an appearance. Whilst she had quite literally given him everything back, she knew her husband well enough to know, he may longer wear the mask of a Death Eater, now he wore an invisible mask of his own, which concealed more darkness than ever before._

_She watched sadly as Lucius and Draco returned late one afternoon, they walked companionably along the gravelled path to the front door. Being at home with her husband and son was once all Narcissa wanted. The Lucius Malfoy, she had known for the best part of her life, and had been married to for so long, was not the formidable dark wizard that the outside world saw, she had been privy to a very different side to the former Death Eater. A loving father and husband, who she saw herself growing old with, but as Narcissa sat watching, alone in the morning room, those days and dreams were very far removed from the life she was leading now._

_After her once powerful family’s very public and dramatic fall from grace, they had all suffered, none more so than Lucius who had been totally enervated. Demeaned before his peers and his family, as well as having to come to terms with his own foolishness and misplaced loyalties; it was a realisation which had left Lucius cold. The Dark Lord clearly had no place for Lucius Malfoy in the world that he would have created, Narcissa realised now, how he must have felt, suffocating under the feeling that there was no room for her, in a world that she herself had created._

“ _May I pour you a drink” Lucius asked. His tones soft and warm, gesturing the array of decanters and glasses at his side._

_After seeing Lucius and Draco return to the manor earlier in the day, Narcissa had pictured another frosty family dinner, followed by an evening of solitude, she was pleasantly surprised, if a little wary to find Lucius already in the sitting room, before their evening meal._

_“Thank you.” She replied with caution, a small smile lifting her lips as she accepted the glass of red wine from his outstretched hand._

_“Did you and Draco have a good day?” She kept her voice light and her smile warm._

_“We did.” Lucius responded with equal politeness, taking a sip from the heavy glass tumbler he held between his fingers._

_He didn’t offer any further information and Narcissa didn’t ask, it was a very long time since she and Lucius had enjoyed a drink together in this fashion, she wanted to savour the moments._

_“This is nice.” She said, bringing her own glass to her lips. Her eyes meeting Lucius’ over the rim._

_Her husband inclined his head slightly, but said nothing, a brief smile touching his lips. Her heart skipped a beat but Narcissa still felt a little edgy, ridiculous really, but something continued to jar her nerves, and she chose her words carefully, sticking to what she considered a safe subject.  She turned towards the French doors that overlooked the gardens._

_“I think we might have some snow before too long, its…..”_

_She felt Lucius finger’s gently lift her hair, moving the tresses back to expose her long slender neck, his warm lips brushing the spot where it met her shoulder, his thumb caressing the soft skin.  Narcissa’s heart beat wildly in her chest, a spark of desire coursed through her. She had missed his touch more than even she realised, she didn’t dare speak or move, when all the while she just wanted to throw her arms about her husband and move into his embrace._

_“I haven’t touched you for some considerable time.” His stated._

_Narcissa couldn’t help but notice whilst it was gentle, the tone remained flat and dispassionate, the spark of desire was laced with unease, something she had never experienced with Lucius before. She watched his reflection in the window she stood in front of, he seemed somehow detached, perhaps he too was little uneasy, as he said it had been sometime since they had shared any form of intimacy.  She turned to face him, his tired but still handsome face searched hers._

_“We have both had other things on our minds” She said quietly, still trying to keep her tone light. “Been a little distracted, not entirely ourselves.”_

_The moment she uttered the last three words she regretted it, feeling the fingers that still rested on her shoulder tighten against her skin, his grey eyes darkening stormily._

_“You still insist that I am not myself?”_

_His voice once more took on that quietly chilling timbre._

_“No my love, it’s just we’ve both had a lot to think about, the war, it has changed……”_

_His grip tightened painfully and Narcissa stopped, raising her thin fingers to Lucius’ face, and moving closer to his hard form, she felt his body stiffen, and not in an aroused manner._

_“I do not think I am any different, nothing has changed.”_

_Narcissa wished that was true, his tone of voice, the bitter look on his face and the coldness in his eyes when he spoke to her, speaking the words that did not fall from his lips; it was as if her husband no longer knew her._

_His fingers left her shoulder, taking her chin in his grasp, he tilted her head sharply back, the soft skin of her face now prey to his ferocious grip._

_“Perhaps I am no longer good enough for you. I have my wealth, my power and my name back, but are they tarnished to you my darling.”_

_Narcissa couldn’t shake her head to deny his groundless accusations, her voice was strangled and silenced by fear._

_Lucius clearly taking her silence as acquiescence, a hateful sneer curled his lip as he pushed her away, so forcefully that she hit the glazed door behind her. She tightly clutched the glass she still held, holding onto it as if were her lifeline, fear and anger heated her blood. She looked into the face of the man before her, a man she hardly recognised any more, the look of contempt on his face causing her anger to outweigh her fear, she finally found her voice._

_“And how do you think you got all of it back.” Narcissa bit her lip, instantly wanting to recant her words. she had never intended he would know anything of her part in regaining his life, the spell she had cast upon him, wearing of as quickly as it had always done, leaving no trace not even to the formidable Dark Wizard. Her heart beat frantically as she awaited his wrath, nothing, the silence in the room all but terrified her, more frightening than any rant of temper._

_She had always stood her ground with Lucius, because after so many years she knew him almost as well as she knew herself, but now she wasn’t so sure. She shook, as his grey eyes fell from her, to glass he held in his own hand, for one awful moment she thought he was going to throw it at her, instead her turned and hurled the heavy glass tumbler into the open hearth. The fire spitting fiercely as the small remnants of alcohol hit the flames._

_Lucius seemed to gloss over her words, once more returning to his own trail of vitriol._

_“Perhaps my dear, you would prefer it if I were gone. You need something else.” He almost spat at her._

_A very different kind of fear gripped Narcissa now, never, despite everything that they had been through and endured did she think that Lucius would leave, but he was right, she did need something else, but she needed it from him. Fear gave her courage._

_“Yes Lucius, I do **need…..I”** Her voice was hoarse with emotion, struggling with her words as she once more looked into the face of the man she had loved for so long. _

_“I **need** you. I **need** the man I fell in love with. I **need** the man I married and had a child with.”  _

_Narcissa saw a strange, almost haunted look cross her husband’s face, before it once more became devoid of emotion._

_“That man no longer exists.” He bit back._

_Narcissa couldn’t help but flinch as he raised his hand, he brushed it across her cheek, removing the tear which spilled onto her passion reddened face. Before turning abruptly and leaving the room._

 


	5. The Bitter End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter which concludes Part One ~ The Malfoy's back story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual housekeeping notes of thanks and apologies. I hope you have enjoyed part one, part two is not so dark or so sad and will set the scene before the two worlds come together.

Chapter 5 ~ The Bitter End

The silence in his empty bedroom was deafening, punctuated only by the occasional crackle or pop from the fire, which blazed in the hearth. The room was still dim, at a little after 9am on a cold January morning with the snow falling heavily, there was little brightness to be had.

Narcissa Malfoy had given her husband nothing……nothing that was, but her unconditional love and enduring support. Somehow, although he still wasn’t entirely sure how, with her help he had got it all back, his wealth, his power, his social standing, the precious Malfoy name and of course above all else his beloved son, Draco.  Oddly it all seemed a little hazy, but none of this would have been possible without her, and yet here she was gone, and by his own hand.  But Lucius Malfoy felt nothing, nothing but that same empty all-consuming blackness, which clouded his world.

**_A Few Hours Earlier…………._ **

_Narcissa hadn’t been entirely sure how to take her husband’s words or even how to interpret them. Telling her the man she loved, the man she had married, the man she had borne a child with, no longer existed, was almost impossible to take in. She had no idea what he wanted or expected from her, if indeed he wanted or expected anything. She spent, hours, days, weeks even, alone, just thinking about his words. She kept out of his way, which wasn’t difficult, between the size of the manor and his frequent absences, it proved a surprisingly simple task. Narcissa was tortured by her own questions, her own lack of understanding. Did she carry on as if nothing had happened, as if nothing had been said? For Draco’s sake, when in his presence, she did precisely that, not wishing to upset her son or hinder his progress in any way. For the remainder of the time, she toyed with the idea of confronting her husband, something which didn’t come to fruition._

_Christmas in the Malfoy home, went by like any other Christmas had done, all of the proprieties were observed and presents were duly exchanged by everyone. Malfoy Manor was even the centre of a rather spectacular, resoundingly successful and well attended, New Year’s Eve ball, just as it had been in days gone by. It had been many years since such an event had taken place, but Lucius, despite his personal life, seemed keen to re-establish the Malfoy standing. He expected his wife to play the dutiful hostess, clearly as if everything were as it should be.  Narcissa of course did so without question, supporting her husband to the bitter end……. which was exactly what it proved to be._

_As parties had always done at Malfoy Manor, dawn was breaking, in this instance, greyly and bitterly coldly on the first day of January, as the last of the guests apparated or flued from the Malfoy ancestral home._

_Tired, sad and fearing what the New Year held for her, Narcissa decided she could no longer go on like this and that whatever the outcome, it was time to confront her husband._

_Wearily she climbed the imposing staircase, almost hauling herself up by the wooden bannisters, pausing momentarily outside of the room she had shared for so long with Lucius. She knew full well he had retired only minutes before, so doubted he would have had time to disrobe let alone fall asleep. Taking a deep steadying breath, she entered their bedroom._

_Lucius hadn’t retired, he clearly hadn’t even attempted to do so, his tal,l strikingly handsome figure framed against the windows which overlooked the gardens.  His back to her, his blonde hair sleek and a stark contrast against the blackness of the robes he still wore. He was staring through the cold glass, watching the snow fall, leaning on his ever present ebony cane, in the other hand he clutched a glass of Firewhisky, he didn’t turn as the door closed behind her with a gentle but definite click._

_Narcissa moved silently into the room, edging closer to her husband, she spoke his name quietly, knowing he heard her as she saw him stiffen slightly at the sound of her voice. Still he didn’t turn to face her, she spoke again, louder this time and more forcefully._

_“Lucius…..look at me……please.”_

_Amidst the rustle of his impeccably tailored robes, Lucius Malfoy turned to face his wife, his steely silver grey gaze meeting her sad, almost defeated blue, head on. Narcissa held her ground._

_“You no longer want me?” Her soft voice faltered under the intensity of his penetrating gaze._

_“You no longer need me?” The words were voiced as questions but in her heart Narcissa knew they were statements._

_Still Lucius remained silent. The long fingers that were tightly furled around the heavy glass tumbler he cradled, tightened yet further, whitening his knuckles._

_“You no longer love me?”_

_Lucius saw his wife’s blue eyes sparkle with unshed tears, saw her square her slight shoulders in readiness for his response, it brooked no emotion in him, nor did it soften his harsh tone._

_“No” he stated quite simply. “I do not.”_

_Despite in her heart what she knew was coming, it didn’t stop Narcissa almost reeling in intense pain at his words, they cut to her very core, making her almost double in agony, a small gasp escaping her lips at his cold concurrence._

_Much as she wanted to fight for the man she loved, her husband, Narcissa Malfoy could see no point.  From the indifference in her husband’s face and the emptiness that glittered in his grey eyes she knew that any fight would be a losing battle, after all these years she knew better than to even try.  Fighting back the unshed tears, she nodded her head in acceptance of his words and left the room, left the house, and left Lucius Malfoy………..….and never come back._


	6. A Dream Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened to one third of the Golden Trio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we leave the Malfoy's just for a little while, this section will be a little lighter reading.

**Part Two ~ Hermione Granger**

 

Hermione Granger tightened the belt on her fleecy dressing gown, cradling the steaming mug of tea in her hands she watched the light flurries of snow drift past her window, a huge smile lifted her lips, it was lovely to see snow in London. A light dusting began to settle on the cars in the road below the window of her flat, she doubted it would last very long, by lunchtime it would either be gone completely or turned to a pile of grey dirty looking mush. But as a red car directly beneath her window slowly began to resemble an iced bun she enjoyed the sight, no matter how temporary it was.

She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall, it was almost 11am she rarely slept in, or was this late discarding her nightclothes, but it was New Year’s Day, she hadn’t returned from the newly rebuilt Burrow until the early hours of the morning, so had afforded herself a decadent lie in. Molly had wanted her to spend the night, but, well things had changed for Hermione and she didn’t want to slip back entirely into her old habits and ways.

 

**_Four Months Earlier …………………_ **

_“I know you are right Mione, but we will still be friends wont we?”_

_Hermione Granger threw her arms around Ronald Weasley. “Of course we will silly. That’s never going to change. We will still see each other, and to be honest I think quite possibly more than ever”_

_Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley had been together since the end of the second wizarding war, it had proved a rather ill-timed romance, borne out of friendship and circumstances more than anything else. They had loved each other, but as they had discovered over recent months they hadn’t really been in love with each other. Their lives had taken very different paths after the war and really taken them both in very different directions._

_Ron had gone to work with Harry at the Ministry of Magic as an Auror, but Hermione despite her skills and of course being the brightest witch of her age, had for a time almost turned her back on the wizarding world, or at least being such an integral part of it. The war had left her disillusioned and wanting to do something more with her life._

_Hermione always had an insatiable curiosity and an enormous thirst for knowledge, even when she was at Hogwarts, both, as a child and into young adulthood, she had spent an awful lot of her time wondering what made people do the things they did, make the choices they made.  There were so many people she would love to have sat down and asked those questions of, Professors Snape and Dumbledore not to mention Lord Voldemort himself to mention but three._

_Hermione being Hermione of course, felt, if they were not necessarily the right choices, she wanted to persuade them otherwise, help them make the right decision, give them guidance. It was with all this buzzing around in her ever active brain that had steered her towards, psychology, not something readily recognised within wizarding circles, thus, Hermione had spent the last 16 months, studying in the Muggle World, and of course had proved just a big a swat there as she was in the wizarding world and just a quick a study._

_Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, had approached, the last remaining member of the golden trio, who did not work for him, on numerous occasions with various tempting job offers, each time Hermione had stood her ground, that was until he came to her with an offer she really couldn’t refuse._

_“Hermione, I will not mince my words, I know you appreciate straight talking.”_

_The flamboyant Minister said, as he poured a rather highly scented tea, in his office. “You know I want you to come and work here at the Ministry, and I fully appreciate that you want to follow your chosen path, how would it be if you could do the two?”_

_“I am sorry Minister; I am not following you. You know I have been studying phycology in the Muggle world, the human mind, what……”_

_“Yes I know Hermione; I have also come to understand fully exactly what that entails. I like to think of myself as a man of foresight, brave enough to encompass new ideas and thinking, even if they are ideas and thinking from a world outside of our own.”_

_Hermione nodded still not entirely sure where the Minister was going with this._

_Kingsley Shacklebolt sat back in his chair, Hermione could see the confidence exuding from him, and had a very strange feeling he was finally going to get his own way._

_“Hermione, the first time we spoke and I tried to get you to come and work here at the Ministry, I remember you explaining what you wanted to do. I have to confess even to man of my learning and teaching like myself, it meant very little to me. I recall you saying how much you would like to have understood what drove Professor Snape and more so, the Dark Lord, I did not profess to understand any of that or even why you would want to. I have to say, oddly it has all become a lot clearer to me over recent months, perhaps simply because it was something you had mentioned, which is always worth giving second thought to.” He flashed a big toothy smile at the young witch._

_“That is very nice of you to say so Minister. I am still not sure…..”_

_The larger than life Minister for Magic interrupted her once more._

_“Hermione, since the end of the war I have made it my business to guarantee that things have changed, hopefully for the better. Those changes have included visits to various places including, Azkaban, to Hogwarts and even to St Mungo’s to ensure that the people who had been effected by those events in whatever way, be it small or large, are being properly taken care of and helped. However, I find myself not knowing if this is the case or not, I just see what I always did, clearly it needs a trained eye. Your trained eye.”_

_Hermione just stared at the Minister, she was completely thrown by his words, although she was still not entirely sure what he was asking of her or what he was offering, but it had certainly spiked her interest._

_“Minister please excuse my ignorance here, or that I am perhaps being a little dense, but what exactly are you asking me to do?”_

_Kingsley Shacklebolt smiled slowly, a knowing smile._

_“Quite simply Hermione, what I couldn’t. I want you to talk to these people, listen to them, help them if they need it. From what you have told me about the study you have been doing in the Muggle World you would be the perfect person for the job, and of course we both get what we want.”_

_His knowing smile got bigger. “You know some of these people, you also know what they have been through, what they have done, but most importantly you know our world. You would have an office here at the Ministry, simply a base, I would expect monthly reports from you as I do from all of my senior staff here, but other than that I am giving you carte blanche, to create and devise as you see fit,”_

_For once in her life Hermione Granger was totally lost for words, talk about a dream job, well not even a job, a vocation possibly and something for her to create. Kingsley Shacklebolt certainly knew the right buttons to press. But despite that, she knew, he was doing it for the right reasons, he had thought about what she had said to him, also about the people that had lived through the war, for that, her respect for him grew tenfold. She always recognised that he cared about people and what was right, but to go out on a limb like this, in wizarding circles was a huge step. Her admiration for Kingsley Shacklebolt knew no bounds. How could she possibly say no to him?_

 


	7. A Little Help From My Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione meets up with some old friends and reveals her plans.........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Housekeeping as usual, apologies and thanks.
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read and comment

Hermione was loath to do anything on her last day before starting her new job, it had been a manic few months and the next few didn’t look like easing up any, not of course that she minded, in truth she really couldn’t wait to get started. She finished her tea and glanced around her rather unusually, untidy flat. Oddly enough Hermione liked to do her housework without the aid of magic, it cleared her head, and she found it strangely therapeutic, well with the exception of the ironing that was. But just this once wouldn’t hurt, she could continue to enjoy her lazy day. Maybe even go for a little walk in the snow, before it dissolved or turned into that revolting grey slush. The flakes were much larger now turning all of the cars in her road, into a veritable bakery of iced looking cakes.  With a wave or two of her wand, her little flat was once more clean and tidy, Hermione finally discarded her nightwear in favour of jeans, a thick jumper and some warm boots before venturing outside into the snow, it reminded her of all the happy times she had spent at Hogwarts with Harry and Ron. She smiled once more to herself as she recalled their joy, when she told them she was coming to work at the Ministry.

****

**_Three Months Earlier…………._ **

_“Seriously Hermione, that’s great. When do you start? How on earth did Shacklebolt get you to change your mind?”_

_Hermione laughed “Whoooaaah there Harry, hold your hippogriff, I feel like I am up in front of the Wizengamot.”_

_“Sorry, I just got a little carried away, it’s just great that we will all be back together again.” Harry smiled a little guiltily, watching his old school friend through his still heavy rimmed glasses and running a slightly sheepish hand through his ever messy, overly long hair._

_Hermione continued to laugh too, looking from one old school friend to the other. Ron was equally as pleased, but in this instance, just not quite as exuberant as Harry, maybe he still felt a little awkward over their breakup._

_“Well” She began. “To answer your questions in order, I start on 2 nd January, I have another exam at the end of this month and I wanted some time to prepare. As for how did the Minister change my mind well, I guess, put simply, he basically told me to create the job I wanted for myself in the Wizard World. I could hardly say no to him, it’s a tad surreal creating your own job and I am not exactly sure where to start.”_

_Both Harry and Ron looked at each other, that same look they had been exchanging over Hermione since their first term at Hogwarts. Their eyes rolling and wide with disbelief, before they both finally snorted with laughter and Ron spoke._

_“Hermione Granger stumped, ha that will be the day, I bet you have a bazillion ideas in your head and cannot wait to start.”_

_Hermione pretended to look affronted at their remarks, before once more laughing with them._

_“I hate that you two know me so well.” She shrugged her shoulders. “You are quite right Ronald; I do have at the very LEAST a bazillion ideas in my head, but where to start with them is the real issue.”_

_Harry and Ron were both as baffled as the Minister for Magic at what Hermione was trying to or intending to do initially, but like him, with Hermione’s patient explanations, they had gradually come to understand. Unlike the Minister, however, who had come to understand why she wanted to get inside people’s head, neither Ron or Harry could really understand the why part._

_“I really want to do well in this last exam.” She saw Harry and Ron exchange another knowing look._

_Hermione Granger not do well in an exam that would be a first, she didn’t need to be a legilimens to know what they were both thinking._

_“THEN…...” She pressed regaining their attention.   “I spoke to Professor McGonagall, well I guess Headmistress McGonagall now and she has pulled a few strings, arranged for me to sit my N.E.W.Ts.”_

_Harry and Ron both looked suitably stunned at her revelation._

_“Mione, you are kidding. A Muggle exam and your N.E.W.Ts, even your brain will be fried.”_

_Hermione threw Ronald Weasley an exasperated look, she didn’t really expect either of her old school friends to appreciate her decision or for that matter comprehend it. Neither of them had acquired their N.E.W.Ts but they both had jobs at the Ministry, Hermione didn’t need them either, but with her, it was simply a matter of principle and of pride. When she had started at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she had fully intended on sitting them, and up until the return of the Dark Lord that was exactly what she had intended to do.  She didn’t want all that hard work and learning to go to waste. She was convinced if she worked hard, there was no reason why she could not pass them, as well as her Muggle examination before she started her job at the Ministry._

_“When are you taking your N.E.W.Ts Hermione.” It was Harry who asked the question._

_Hermione smiled at him thankful for humouring her if nothing else._

_“I am going to Hogwarts in December, whilst all of the Professors are still there, I can revise and McGonagall has arranged for some extra tuition if I need it. Once term finishes for the Christmas break she will oversee and adjudicate my finals, I will get my results sometime the week between Christmas and New Year.”_

_“I doubt Shacklebolt will take back his job offer if you fail.”_

_“Tactfully put as always Ronald.” Said Hermione shaking her head at her ex-boyfriend’s comment._

_Ron had the good grace to look suitably embarrassed by his far from diplomatic remark._

_Jutting her chin defiantly, Hermione added._  “ _But I have no intention of failing.”_

_“Oh I don’t think we doubt that for one minute Hermione.”_

_Harry hugged his school friend, he knew she would only ever do what she wanted, but it really didn’t matter, he was just delighted that the three of them would be together again, in one-way shape or form.  When she had told him and Ron that she didn’t want to work at the Ministry, that she was going to a Muggle college, he had been frightened that she would turn her back on the Wizarding community entirely.  She had sacrificed so much for him and for their world and the split with Ron, no matter how amicable it had been, had only served to increase those fears. A far as Harry Potter was concerned this was great news, and he felt an odd sense of relief._

_“I am sure we are the last people that can help you, but if there is anything you need from us, you know we are always here.”_

_“Thanks Harry, a little help from your friends is always most welcome. Just knowing you two are here for me and support me, really is enough.”_

_“Hey we could always come up and visit one weekend, go into Hogsmeade, get a Butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, like old times.”_

_Ron Weasley looked like a 14-year-old again, his blue eyes twinkling in a slightly freckled face, framed by a mop of red hair, as unruly and overly long as Harry’s.  Hermione couldn’t help but laugh, she was nonetheless about to say no, she would need all her time to revise and concentrate on passing her exams. But a little break and a distraction for a few hours, with her old friends, wouldn’t go amiss, and as Ron said it would be like old times. Well almost._

_“That would be great, if you could get the time off of course, it will be nice to have a little break, not spend the entire time with my nose buried in a book or keeping my hair out of a potions cauldron.”_

_“That’s settled then, we will come up the weekend before your exams.” Ron was highly delighted with his suggestion and that it had been accepted so readily._

_“Just before your brain implodes!” Laughed Harry._

_“I think you could be right there Harry, better make that two Butterbeers._

_The three friends laughed heartily, looking forward to their return to Hogwarts._

 


	8. Pizza, Wine & Gossip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione catches up with another old friend and they share some girly gossip and alcohol.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks yous etc as always.

The snow had stopped falling not long after Hermione had gone outside, the sky had cleared and the beautiful winter sunshine had broken through, making it a glorious first day of the year. She was glad she hadn’t stayed at the Burrow, oh she loved the Weasley’s dearly each and every one of them, and of course she adored Harry. The New Year’s eve Party had been the usual array of fun, games and inevitable Weasley arguments. It had been a real treat to be able to truly relax and enjoy herself, there was however something to be said for a little peace and quiet especially after such a hard few months preparing and revising for her exams. 

Two Months Earlier…………….  
Hermione thought her brain was already about to implode and she hadn’t even got to Hogwarts yet. She had sat her final Muggle psychology exam a couple of weeks earlier. In only 16 months she hadn’t done all of the courses, explored every avenue, but she had enough knowledge and understanding to give her a good start, and considering Psychology wasn’t actually recognised in the Wizarding World she would know more than anyone else. With her N.E.W.T.s under her belt she was certain she would be fine, she hoped! Trying to get her brain back into that sphere of learning was proving a little harder than even she had anticipated.  
“Do you think perhaps seven N.E.W.Ts was stretching it a bit?” Ginny asked her exhausted friend, over pizza one evening.  
Hermione took a long sip from her very large glass of wine.  
“No Gin, I know I can do it, it’s all there. Oh I don’t know Muggle learning isn’t that different from Hogwarts, just try telling my brain that, things just don’t seem to be sinking in.” She drained her glass.  
“Well, it’s not like you have to pass.” Ginny offered.  
Hermione snorted, almost choking on her wine: “You sound just like Ron. I know I don’t have to pass; I don’t even have to sit them at all, but I worked so hard Gin, all that time at Hogwarts, I want it to have meant something. I don’t want it all to have been in vain, I want to pass.”  
Ginny rubbed her friend’s hand affectionately, refilling their glasses: “I know, I wish I could help. Come on forget about the exams, Hogwarts, everything tonight, let’s just enjoy our wine and some girly gossip.”  
Hermione’s ears pricked up. “Hmm, I like the sound of that, come on let’s decamp to the sofa, you can fill me in.”  
Grasping the half empty bottle of wine, Ginny and Hermione curled up conspiratorially on the sofa.  
“Well for starters you will NEVER guess who I saw last week.”  
Hermione thought for a moment taking another large mouthful of the cold white wine Ginny had supplied for their evening.  
“If I am NEVER going to guess Gin, you will simply HAVE to tell me.”  
The two friends dissolved into a fit of wine induced, very girly giggles, before Ginny Weasley finally managed to speak.  
“Draco Malfoy!” She exclaimed.  
“He was with his father; they were coming out of that new robes shop on Diagon Alley. Oh, sorry I forgot you haven’t been there for a while, anyway it’s VERY posh, right out of my price range, it’s even too expensive to look in the window.”  
Ginny caught sight of the look on Hermione’s face, realising she hadn’t paused for breath and had digressed from her encounter with Messrs Malfoy Junior and Senior and was now waffling on about expensive clothes.  
Hermione waited patiently for Ginny to continue, nothing.  
“And Gin……….” She asked the suspense almost killing her.  
“And what?”  
Hermione couldn’t contain her laughter, she might have been out of Wizarding Circles for a while but she was certain, Draco and Lucius Malfoy coming out of a rather exclusive robes shop was not the headline in the Daily Prophet gossip column, she held out a hand, encouraging Ginny to continue.  
“Oh right sorry, think the wine has gone to my head a bit.” Ginny took another mouthful, just for good measure.  
“Well, I don’t know if its common knowledge or not but Dad told us The Malfoy’s have got everything back. He didn’t go into details, you know what men are like, useless at gossip, they only ever get half a story. But apparently, the Malfoy name has been restored and they have all of their money back, I even heard Dad telling Mum, Mr Malfoy and Draco, have had a meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt.”  
Hermione’s big brown eyes widened in surprise, the Malfoy name and wealth might well have been restored, for whatever reasons, but she seriously doubted, after everything that had happened, the current Minister of Magic was likely to be so trusting of the former follows of Voldemort quite so quickly. She didn’t want to take all of the gloss of Ginny’s story, so made light of her revelation.  
“So you reckon one or other is in line for Head of Muggle Relations then?”  
The ploy worked and Ginny collapsed into another fit of the giggles.  
“Have to say though.” Ginny added, her words just a little slurred and her face more than a little flushed. “Draco looked kinda hot”.  
“Ginny!” Hermione was horrified at her friend’s comment, alcohol induced or not, there was that other Latin expression, in vino veritas.  
“I think perhaps Ginny, you’ve had enough.” She indicated Ginny’s once more empty wine glass with her eyes.  
“What! Oh come on Hermione, don’t be so prissy. A tall, not bad looking, blonde bad boy it’s got to stir something, even in you.”  
Hermione wasn’t sure what shocked her more, the fact that her old friend, who was supposedly in love with Harry, had some sort of secret crush or hankering after Draco Malfoy or that she thought Hermione wasn’t capable of having similar such feelings. Of course she was, of course she was capable of thinking someone was hot, of course she had been stirred by fleeting sexual attraction, they just weren’t thoughts or words that usually went in a sentence with the name Malfoy.  
Not liking that she had suddenly been labelled “prissy” and not for the first time, Hermione retaliated. Not wanting to upset her slightly inebriated friend, she did so with good humour, even if she was a little bit annoyed.  
“Well I am not saying all of the attributes are not appealing Gin, just not perhaps the name. The most passion Draco Malfoy ever stirred in me was right hook.”  
“I remember you getting feisty with Malfoy Senior.” Ginny giggled, the wine glasses once more being topped up, the bottle finally empty.  
Through slightly less alcohol than her friend Hermione thought, and thought some more, she had only seen the formidable Lucius Malfoy on two, possibly three previous occasions, that she could recall anyway. And could honestly not remember speaking…….  
“Merlin’s teeth Ginny Weasley, I was 12 years old, that’s gross.”  
Ginny laughed, draining her glass and stretching like a contented cat: “Attractive older man, tall blonde, bad boy.”  
“Ok that’s it, enough! Before my pizza re-appears. I will make some coffee, I cannot let you flue home in your condition, heaven knows where you will end up.”  
Hermione went into the kitchen and put on the coffee, by the time she returned, Ginny was curled up rather lovingly around a cushion, fast asleep. Grabbing the throw from the back of the sofa, Hermione covered her friend up, it was probably just as well for her to sleep it off. And after her remarks about Draco Malfoy, Hermione felt a lot happier that she could keep an eye on Ginny, best be safe than sorry.  
One thing Ginny had aroused in Hermione with her mention of Draco and Lucius Malfoy was her curiosity. One way or another, Hermione knew what had happened to the people she had gone to school with, their families, but other than this brief mention she had heard little or nothing about the once powerful Malfoy family, in all honesty she hadn’t really cared. But Ginny bringing them up like this she couldn’t help but wonder now.


	9. Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione returns to Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well as always thanks etc for comments and Kudos. Your patience will soon been rewarded and this will turn into a fully fledged Lumione fic.....but in the meantime.........

 

Despite the wintry sunshine, the air was cold and refreshing as Hermione strode through the freshly fallen snow, few people had ventured out yet, and hers were the first footprints in the powdery white flakes.  She walked in a childishly crooked line, leaving an odd shaped trail behind her; the boots she wore topped with thick white snow, just like the cars in the road, it was a long time since the snow in London had fallen quite so fast or so thickly.  The only thing she really missed what a good old fashioned childish snowball fight, like the one she Ron and Harry had had at Hogwarts just before Christmas.

**_One Month Earlier ………………_ **

_Being back at Hogwarts, or rather the newly rebuilt Hogwarts was to say the very least, totally surreal.  The last time she had been here was in the Spring of 1998, the beautiful imposing castle where she had spent the best part of the last six years, reduced almost entirely to rubble.  With the Dark Lord defeated, Hermione hadn’t been sure if she would ever return._

_Two weeks into almost a month long stay, Hermione felt as if she had never left, she also felt a little like she was 11 years old again, fortunately, she didn’t have to go through a sorting ceremony, well not as such. The Headmistress, her own former Head of House, Minerva McGonagall, had sorted her with little ceremony into one of the teaching staff’s vacant rooms, feeling it not quite appropriate for her to stay in the Gryffindor Tower, and also sure she would appreciate the peace and quiet to study._

_Since arriving at her old school on the 1 st December, Hermione had done nothing but study, seven N.E.W.Ts was a tall order, for someone who had been studying constantly, let alone for someone who had just started again, but Hermione was even more determined than ever. The only person she had anything to prove to was herself and she was her greatest critic. _

_Hermione was delighted to discover some of her old Professors were still at the school, all of whom went out of their way to help her. Professor McGonagall herself, was always on hand with transfiguration, she even used the younger witch as a teaching assistant with the first years, to give her extra practice, as did Professor Sprout in Herbology. Hermione found the experience not only very helpful but also very rewarding, deciding if her chosen career didn’t work out as she hoped, she would take up teaching._

_The two subjects Hermione struggled most to get to grips with once more were, Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts, she couldn’t understand why. Whilst not her favourite subjects when she was here previously, she had always done well in both classes.  She smiled to herself one afternoon leaving one such Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson, she had sat in on, remembering Gilderoy Lockhart causing utter pandemonium when he released a batch of Cornish Pixies in the classroom. The bright blue creatures had shot off in every direction, two of them grabbing poor Neville Longbottom by the ears and promptly suspending him from an overhead candelabra. Thinking about Gilderoy Lockhart also reminded her of the afternoon she and Ron had discovered Harry was a Parseltongue, after the duelling club, when Professor Snape……….that was it!_

_Suddenly Hermione realised why she was struggling with Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts, it had nothing to do with her abilities in the two subjects, it was her memory, but her memory of Professor Snape, an odd sadness settled about her. In those days she had never been particularly fond of the irascible dark eyed Professor, he certainly had little time for her, often demeaning her in class, calling her an insufferable know it all.  But following his death and the revelations that had ensued, Hermione had of course seen him in a very different light._

_It was difficult to put her finger on it, but she missed his presence about the place, perhaps more so even than Professor Dumbledore, half expecting him at times to pop up and catch her doing something she shouldn’t, or to hear his slow scathing tones putting her down for something or another. Seeing the classrooms that he had dominated with such presence, paced by others, was what was distracting Hermione, it was that simple._

_Whilst she was at Hogwarts, Ginny Weasley was keeping an eye on Hermione’s flat and forwarding on any important post by Owl. Fortunately for Hermione, the hapless Errol owned by the Weasley family had long since flown of the mortal coil, but she wasn’t entirely sure his replacement was any better, as it came to unceremonious halt in front of her one morning, clutching he result of her final Muggle Psychology Exam.  Hermione ran her fingers tentatively along the rather crumpled envelope, she felt she had done ok and had passed, but an ok pass for Hermione Granger just wasn’t good enough. Luckily her pass mark was well beyond that, she was just taking in all of the stars and pluses on the letter, when something occurred to her about Professor Snape._

_One of the papers in the last exam, had been about grief and how people do, or to be more accurate, do not deal with it. Because of everything that had happened Hermione, realised she hadn’t dealt with the Professor’s death, she hadn’t been close to him, not in emotional terms at least, at the time of his death, but she had in fact been with him when he died.  Whether she wanted to admit it or not it was a traumatic event for have gone through, especially in light of what transpired afterwards. In all this time she had never grieved for him._

_It was with all of this racing around in her mind that Hermione Granger found herself in her old Potions classroom, in the very seat she had sat in, on that very first lesson. Being in the Dungeons at Hogwarts, meant it had remained relatively unscathed in the destruction. Rows of pickled animals still floated around in the jars which lined the shelves in the cold room, and as Hermione closed her eyes, she could hear the then Potions Master’s voice as clear as if he were in the room, hear his black robes rustling as he impatiently paced the classroom.  A smile lifted her lips as tears poured down her face._

_True to their word Harry and Ron arrived the last weekend before term officially ended. They had planned to sneak in, meet up with Hermione and sneak off again to the Three Broomsticks for their Butterbeer, word had however somehow seemed to have got out and there was an air of great excitement at the school._

_“Hermione.” The young witch still found it a little strange when her former Head of House, addressed her by her given name._

_“You honestly cannot expect Mister Potter and Mister Weasley’s visit to go unnoticed or unmarked.”_

_“Well I am sure, they wouldn’t want any fuss Headmistress, they had planned to stay in Hogsmeade, but obviously your kind invitation for them to stay …….”_

_The Headmistress held up her hands, clearly wanting to hear no more thanks or protestations surrounding the visiting of the two illustrious former pupils._

_Hermione, tried not to laugh, she was certain Harry wouldn’t want any fuss, Ronald Weasley on the other hand, well Ron did like to bask from time to time in his own celebrity, she was certain he wouldn’t miss the chance here at Hogwarts. Thus the last Friday meal before the Christmas holiday was turned into a festive feast with all the trimmings, all of the stops were well and truly pulled out. Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley were welcomed back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry like conquering heroes. Except of course by Hagrid who still loved them both dearly, but still treated them like they were 12 years’ old, just as he done Hermione, when she had wandered down to his hut one afternoon for tea and one of his solid rock cakes._

_Just to make the weekend absolutely perfect, during the night the first heavy snow of winter had fallen, the golden trio woke up to a Christmas picture postcard, Hogwarts in the snow. After breakfast the three friends donned suitable clothing and made their way into Hogsmeade, by the time they arrived the three of them were utterly exhausted, and soaking wet. Their coats and hair plastered in snow, from the snowball fight which started in the grounds of the Castle and ended just outside the heavy wooden door of The Three Broomsticks. They all ached from laughing and running so hard. For Hermione it was a delightful physical exhaustion, her brain didn’t hurt from hours of revision and her eyes weren’t tired from hours of reading, but other than that everything else on her body ached or hurt wonderfully, this was just what she needed before a week of exams._

_“Thank you so much for being here, I cannot tell you how much fun it has been and how great it is to see you both.”_

_The three old friends hugged tightly before Hermione turned to the bar and ordered three long overdue Butterbeers._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Happy New Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the final single chapter before our two worlds well and truly collide..........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grateful thanks as always for kind words, they make a girl want to write. Apologies as ever for any mishaps.

 

Hermione Granger practically skipped back to her flat, the temperature had dropped considerably, but she really was too happy to care. The sun was still shining brightly, but because of the cold it hadn’t melted the snow, it might last the day after all Hermione thought, putting up her collar to keep out the now rather biting wind.  The little coffee shop at the end of her street was open, quite surprising for New Year’s day.  The owner, Luis had lit the large heaters outside and one brave couple were enjoying hot chocolates and buns.  The owner spotted one of his regular customers and waved enthusiastically at Hermione, smiling she waved back. Deciding, she too was just ready for a hot drink and a very naughty but nice, home-made cake of some sort.

“Felice anno nuovo, Signorina Hermione.” The large jovial man called as she walked through the door, a little old fashioned bell ringing over her head as it closed behind her.

“Happy New Year to you too Luis.” She smiled brightly. “The usual please, but today I am going to spoil myself, have a slice of your Panetone and sit and enjoy it here, by one of your heaters.”

“You make yourself comfortable and Luis will bring it to you.”

Hermione did as she was told, determined to make the most of today.  Whilst she was both excited and happy at the prospect of her new job, she also knew there would be some dark days ahead, so a few carefree hours now, were just what she needed to put her own head in the right space to deal with the others.

**_24 Hours Earlier……………………_ **

_Minerva McGonagall had promised to owl Hermione the results of her N.E.W.Ts between Christmas and New Year. To say Hermione had spent the intervening few days on tenterhooks was perhaps the understatement of the century, she had hoped they would arrive immediately after Boxing Day, but that would be a Saturday and although owl post did not work quite like the Royal Mail, she didn’t expect the Headmistress to be working over the holiday weekend. Monday 29 th came and went, as did Tuesday 30th. Hermione was just about to leave for the Burrow on New Year’s Eve when a familiar owl tapped on her window.  Suddenly she felt sick, and was not quite so anxious to know the results. The bird regally handed over its missive before departing once more, Hermione gazed at the parchment, with the stylish handwriting on the front, there was no mistaking Minerva McGonagall’s elegant script. The Hogwarts seal on the back was quickly broken and Hermione opened the envelope. _

_There was a single sheet of cream parchment attached to the front of the results, all it said was “Congratulations. I am so very proud” it was signed with two M’s, Hermione lifted it to reveal her results._

_Charms ~ Outstanding_

_Transfiguration ~ Outstanding_

_Herbology ~ Outstanding_

_Arithmancy ~ Outstanding_

_Ancient Rune ~ Outstanding_

_Potions ~ Exceeds Expectations_

_Defence Against the Dark Arts ~ Exceeds Expectations_

_Hermione almost fell into the chair behind her, she had worked and studied very hard, but this had exceeded even her expectations, especially the last two. She felt sure she would have just scraped through both Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts; even Professor Snape might have been secretly rather pleased with her achievements._

_She left for the Burrow moments later thinking yes indeed, this was going to be a Very Happy New Year._

_The Weasley home was practically full to bursting when she arrived, she still didn’t understand why Molly and Arthur hadn’t had it made bigger when it was rebuilt. Harry was already there, along with the rest of the Weasley clan and the extended family.  Molly was busy clattering around in the kitchen, baking and taking things out the oven, the washing up was busy doing itself and Arthur was stealing hot looking things from a tray behind his wife.  They all, almost simultaneously stopped whatever they were doing to greet Hermione, they had only seen her a few days before for Christmas, but none the less she was welcomed like a long lost friend who they hadn’t seen for years, not of course that she minded in the least. They were the closest thing she had to family now, and she loved them all, including Ronald._

_Mr Weasley gave her a big bear like hug, sneaking her one of his purloined pies and Molly told her she was looking a little tired, just as she had done on Christmas Eve._

_“So come on” Said Harry, taking his turn at the hugging. “Did you get your results?”_

_She knew he would remember, even if no one else did, she nodded, trying desperately to look disappointed, but she’d had no one to share her joy with since she had received them, and in truth she was about fit to burst._

_“Five outstanding’s and two Exceeds expectations. I got them this morning” She practically squealed at Harry._

_“Wow Hermione that’s fantastic.” He was genuinely pleased for his friend, knowing how hard she had worked._

_Ron nudged her playfully, “Bet you are really disappointed with those two ONLY exceeds expectations.”_

_She was just about to slap him equally playfully when Ginny did it for her, only with a little less sisterly playfulness._

_“Ron, that’s just mean, like you would have got anything above poor or dreadful”._

_Thus the first Weasley spat of the day ensued and in record time too, it was brought to a halt only by Mister Weasley pointing everyone in the direction of the still steaming pies._

_Remarkably, relative peace continued for a good few hours before George accused Percy at cheating at Wizard Charades, which brought the game to an abrupt end.  Fortunately, by this time it was fast approaching midnight, Molly had supplied yet more pies and nibbles for her ever hungry family and Mister Weasley and Charlie had gone outside to make sure the fireworks were all ready. A Quick wave of his wand at the stroke of midnight had proved they were more than ready. A stunning display of pyrotechnics nearly set fire to the Weasley home for a second time, Molly breathing a huge sigh of relief as they narrowly missed the wooden roof, prompting a few more choice words which were hurled in a raised voice at her son and husband. But after so many years of happy marriage Arthur Weasley soon placated his wife, and they enjoyed a New Year kiss much the disgust of their children._

_Watching the happy scene and being once more back with her friends and part of the Wizarding World, Hermione knew she had made the right decision._

 


	11. Renewed Acquaintances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooo..........patience rewarded, two worlds FINALLY collide, even if it is just a little taster (for now)...........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Housekeeping .........thank you for all of your comments and kudos. Apologies for any mistakes grammatical et al.

 

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to January, the first week of February also seemed to have vanished in a blur of lightning speed. She was exhausted, both mentally and physically, totally absorbed in her work and loving every single minute of it. 

Her original intention had been to spend three weeks at Hogwarts, a further three, Merlin forbid at Azkaban Prison, finishing off what she termed her rotation with the final three spent at St Mungo’s. However, having been at her former school for almost a month, just prior to Christmas, and spent time chatting to both staff and pupils alike, in what spare time she had, Hermione felt her time might be best spent elsewhere. She could return, officially on Ministry business later, at the moment, she couldn’t see any further need to revisit. She had put all of this in her first, highly detailed report to Minster for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“I will be spending the next four weeks at St Mungo’s, I want to ensure that I have given my time equally to both establishments, before I make any further recommendations.”

Watching the Minister thumb through her neatly presented paperwork was worse than sitting her exams. He studied each page meticulously, Hermione couldn’t help but wonder whether he understood it all, but she didn’t want him thinking she was not giving everything her full attention.

“Hermione!” The minister smiled at the young witch, seated clearly somewhat nervously before him.

“This is of course nothing less than I expected, exceedingly thorough, and exceptionally well presented, even a layman like myself, can understand, well most of it.”

His bright smile faded into a frown and Hermione’s heart sank. There was something wrong, she wasn’t doing what he expected. She pushed that thought to the back of her mind, she could hardly not be doing what he expected, when he himself had already told her he no idea what he expected, she reigned in her errant thoughts.

“I must applaud your diligence, Hermione, but I have to say I am a little concerned at you spending prolonged periods of time at Azkaban.”

Hermione smiled once more, at what was clearly just concern for her well-being, wishing to allay his worries quickly. Admittedly it hadn’t been a pleasant few weeks, even for Hermione, who had seen so much, and who was of course just visiting, walking through those dark, foreboding doors that first week had been very hard.  Even with all the changes made under the current Minister’s tenure it was a frightening, desolate place, but she felt it had been necessary and had found it very useful, she would need to return, and not in the too distant future and did not want the Minister for Magic putting up hurdles because he feared for her in any way.

“Minister.” She caught the look of reproach in his face. “Kingsley.”

The newly confirmed Minister for Magic, liked to be on first name terms with his staff, telling everyone at a recent meeting, the stuffy old ways had not proved very successful so he wanted to do things his way. Harry, Ron and Hermione had exchanged amused looks, wondering how on earth he was actually going to remember everyone’s names; the three of them at least had the advantage of having known him for some time.

“Kingsley, honestly I am and will be fine. You know the security measures that are in place there, even without the Dementors, everything else is simply part of my job. It might not always be pleasant, but I have to deal with that, to be in a position to help.”

The Minister offered her, a not entirely convinced smile, closing the report and glancing at the overly large clock on the wall.

Hermione got the distinct impression she was keeping him from something, so made to leave.

“Hermione, I hate to ask this.” He said, stopping her mid-flight. “I know you’ve had a very long and tiring week, few weeks in fact, but do you have any plans for this evening?”

Hermione looked at the Minister in surprise, he was rubbing his eyes a little wearily, looking almost as tired as she felt, all she wanted to do was go home, soak in the bath and crawl into bed. But she had known Kingsley Shacklebolt long enough to know, he wouldn’t be asking the question unless it was important.

“Only a date with some bubble bath and a glass of wine.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt grinned, his white teeth gleaming, some of the fatigue draining from his face.

“Well I won’t deprive you of either, and actually, I can guarantee a profusion of the latter.” He rose from behind his desk, his colourful robes swishing at the movement as he came to perch on the front of the heavy wooden table.

“I have a Ministry social engagement this evening. You know the kind of thing, a bit of smoozing, some no doubt, _interesting_ food and of course, plenty of alcohol to loosen the purse strings of some wealthy, well connected witches and wizards. I know I should have asked before, but I really would like it if you could come along.”

Hermione honestly couldn’t think of a worse way of spending her evening, fixing a polite smile and talking to a bunch of people she didn’t know, she really did just want to slip into a hot bath, neck deep in sweetly perfumed bubbles, vying for scent supremacy with a plethora of candles, and just a very large glass of wine for company. It had been an incredibly draining, long and tiring week, well four weeks actually, as Kingsley had intimated, the thought of making small talk with a bunch of pompous, too rich for their own good witches and wizards …..

“Of course Kingsley, I would love come along.” She heard a voice say. Merlin it was her own, but after the chance the Minister had given her, she really felt in no position to refuse.

“I promised not to ruin your evening entirely, so why don’t you leave now, and have that well-deserved date with those bubbles.”

Hermione rose from her chair, still flashing an overly bright smile at Kingsley Shacklebolt, but grateful at only 3.30pm to be heading home, at least for a while.

“The reception is at the Aurelia Imperial. it doesn’t start until 8pm. dress robes or cocktail attire, whichever you prefer.”

He walked Hermione to the door, thanking her profusely for accepting his rather belated invitation.

 

It took every ounce of willpower Hermione Granger possessed to drag herself out of her bath tub, with the aid of just a little magic, she had kept the water hot and the wine cold.  The thick silky bubbles, had almost soothed away the mentally exhausting and somewhat grimy few weeks she had endured, she just wished, instead of trying to decide what exactly to wear, she could just slip on her comfy pyjamas and curl up on the sofa. Although after those same grimy few weeks, spent in the dark and insalubrious surroundings of Azkaban Prison, the thought of a swanky hotel and getting dressed up was actually rather appealing. Her wardrobe was not exactly vast, but she had a couple of suitable outfits. Swanky Wizard London hotel, lots of rich and powerful guests, there were only two realistic options, Hermione had ruled out her robes, if she had to go out tonight, she wanted to at least feel feminine. She slipped on her ridiculously high heels, and first held up, her stalwart little black dress and then her rather sexy red lace one. Switching back and forth a couple of times before finally making a decision.

The word contrast did not begin to describe the world Hermione had left behind her this week, to the one she now stepped, or quite possibly tottered into this evening, being a tad out of practice with her high heels.

The Aurelia Imperial was one of the most exclusive wizarding hotels in the world, justifiably so thought the young witch, as her spikey heels clattered across the black and white marble foyer. Candles in varying degrees and shades of red adorned every surface and drifted high up into the stunning atrium.  She was directed to the Xanadu suite by a livered employee, where upon arrival, another offered her sparkling red champagne; everything thus far was red, black and white, the champagne was clearly no exception. Hermione couldn’t contain a smile, thinking how apt her choice of dress had finally been. She gratefully took one of the tall flutes, savouring a cool mouthful of the refreshing sparkling wine. Glancing around the room for Kingsley Shacklebolt or at least one other person she knew, her big brown eyes fell upon a familiar face, or to be more accurate back of someone’s head, but the blonde, almost white hair was as distinguishable as the face to whom she knew it belonged, Draco Malfoy.

The smile on Hermione’s dark red lips broadened yet further as she recalled, the somewhat tipsy revelation from Ginny Weasley, just before Christmas.

_“He looked kinda hot.”_

Hermione was still unconvinced at the use of the word hot, in the same sentence as Draco Malfoy’s name, and this was still resonating in her ears as her amused brown stare met with a piercing and clearly unamused blue one.  Hermione’s smiled faded and she put the glass once more to her lips, quickly gulping down a much larger mouthful, as the owner of the cold, blue eyes moved across the crowded room and ever closer.

She hadn’t known who was going to be here, but in all honesty hadn’t expected her former nemesis to be amongst the invited guests. Her old hackles began to rise as the tall, slender blonde weaved his way across the floor. That was the past, she worked for the Ministry of Magic now, she had an office to uphold and could not be seen to be showing any animosity or harbouring any grudges, to a, what was Kingsley Shacklebolt’s phraseology…… “Wealthy and well connected wizard.” Although Hermione wasn’t entirely sure just how well that description still applied to the once all powerful Malfoy family.

Hermione moistened her suddenly rather dry lips and fixed a bright smile to them, all the while chewing nervously on the inside of the bottom one. She noticed Draco, grab two glasses of the red champagne from a floating tray. He was either drinking rather heavily, she mused or had hopefully spotted someone else he knew and was chivalrously taking a drink to them. Contemplating the point, whilst trying to surreptitiously watch Draco,  she once more, nervously raised her own glass. To her horror, she realised it was now devoid of anything.

“Looks like I arrived just in time.” 

Draco Malfoy proffered one hand. With a flick of the wand which suddenly appeared in the other, he muttered evanesco and Hermione’s original glass vanished.

Somewhat surprised at both his humour and his thought, let alone his presence, she reminded herself once more that this was work, and graciously accepted the full crystal flute.

“Thank you Draco.”

He nodded briefly at her words, a very faint smile lifting his thin lips. For a moment there was an awkward silence, before the young Malfoy spoke once more.

“I heard that you were working at the Ministry, but I didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

Hermione felt a little prickle of annoyance at his words, and why wouldn’t she be here? But she could see in Draco’s face, and from working so closely with people, that there was no malice intended in his words, and uttered by anyone else she probably would have taken little, or no notice. Oddly Draco also looked as if he were perhaps a little out of his own depth, and had headed to her, ironically as a _friendly_ face, or at least maybe the only one in the room he too recognised.  In the spirit of glasnost, she kept her response equally as light and pleasant.

“I am; I’ve only been there a few weeks but………”

“There you are Draco.”

The room suddenly felt devoid of air, Hermione’s fingers tightened involuntarily around the thin delicate stem of her glass.  She saw Draco’s eyes shift a little uncomfortably to the sound of the voice behind her. Like the easily identifiable, back of Draco Malfoy’s head, the clipped aristocratic tones of his father were just as instantly recognisable and infinitely more unnerving.

The formidable dark wizard moved amidst a rustle of expensive fabric, to stand alongside his son. His presence in a room was just as overpowering as it had always been, that arrogant tilt of his head coupled with absolute assurance and bearing.  His height and breadth where emphasised by flawless elegance and exquisite tailoring, the darkness of his robes making his trademark mane of blonde hair seem even paler than ever. Hermione finding even without uttering another word, he had her undivided attention, his cold grey eyes fell upon her. As with his son, Hermione reminded herself, this was Ministry business, politeness and professionalism, at all times. 

The somewhat surprised looked which flittered across the handsome face of Lucius Malfoy, chipped resolutely away at that. Handsome face? Hermione silently chided herself; the man may very well be Lucius Malfoy, former Death Eater and confident of the Dark Lord, but Hermione had to admit, Draco’s father’s was a strikingly handsome man. She made a mental note **not** to tell Ginny. 

 

 


	12. Surprises & Striking Chords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So how will Hermione's first meeting with both of the Malfoy men go.............

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as always for kudos and comments and your continued interest in the story, I hope you enjoy this chapter

 

“Miss Granger!”

The slightly surprised, but haughty derision in Lucius Malfoy’s tones as he spoke her name, stripped Hermione of her sexy red dress and precarious heels; once again she was 12 years old. No longer was she clutching an expensive glass of red champagne, but a newly purchased copy of Magical Me by Gilderoy Lockhart, her exquisite surroundings in exclusive wizard London, transformed into a crowded dusty bookshop in Diagon Alley.

She noticed Lucius Malfoy’s pale grey eyes stray momentarily to his son, before once more coming to rest upon her, the barest glimmer of a smile touching the hard line of his cruel mouth. To her utter astonishment the elder Malfoy extended his hand, politeness and professionalism, Hermione silently recited in her head like a mantra, politeness and professionalism.

For the first time that evening she was inordinately grateful for her four inch heels, she still fell short of Lucius Malfoy’s imposing height, but at least she could almost look him in the eyes. Although right at this very moment Hermione wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, his steely grey gaze was as unwavering as it was unreadable, but she refused to look away.

Hermione swallowed hard, determined not to be intimidated, firmly taking his outstretched hand. His long elegant fingers immediately closing warmly around hers, she watched in further incredulity as her hand was raised and she felt the soft brush of his lips against its back.

“Mister Malfoy, how nice it is to see both you and Draco again.” His unprecedented courtliness had almost robbed her of the power of speech and her voice came out in a rather breathy, husky whisper, she hoped it sounded sincere and not sarcastic in any way.

In her peripheral vision she saw his son shift somewhat uncomfortably, and if she wasn’t very much mistaken, roll his eyes, for her part however, Hermione was unable to drag her own eyes away from the dominating elegance of Lucius Malfoy.

“Draco informs me that you are now working at the Ministry.” Lucius Malfoy released her hand but not her gaze.

“It must be nice to be with your friends once more.” His tone was polite, but his voice was laced with cold detachment, as if speaking to her was still beneath his pureblood dignity, and the ever present hint of derision as if her job were merely some folly to pass the time.

Hermione felt her hackles rise again, she had spent the last month in Azkaban Prison; talking to, and trying to understand and help its inmates. It was hardly sitting in the Ministry sipping tea and catching up on gossip with Harry and Ron. She shot a cursory glance at Draco, wondering who had in fact told him that she was working at the Ministry. He was looking decidedly more uncomfortable than before, at his father’s flippant remark, or simply at his intimidating presence, she wasn’t entirely sure which. She could sense something bubbling under the surface between them, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Draco had always spoken of his father when they had been at Hogwarts, or rather Draco had always flaunted and threatened them with his father, but she had never actually seen them interact as father and son, except of course for a few brief moments in Flourish & Blotts, the scenario spiked both Hermione’s personal and professional curiosity. She found herself responding to Draco’s father, much as she had done when she was twelve years old, with feisty insolence and just as little regard for his Dark Wizard status.

“Ah if only Mister Malfoy.”   She quelled her temper, flashing him a bright smile, feigned with resignation. This time her defiant warm brown eyes held, his intrigued pale grey.

“I haven’t seen them at all since I started.” Her comment was throw away and light, before she went in for kill. “I have spent the first few weeks of my new position at Azkaban”.

Hermione raised her glass once more to her lips, noticing Draco take a sharp intake of breath, his blue eyes watching his father intently.  Her gaze quickly returning to the elder Malfoy once more, already of a pallid complexion, Hermione saw him become visibly more so.  He did his best to conceal even his micro mannerisms but to a trained eye like hers she missed nothing. His nostrils flared and a tiny imperceptible sheen of sweat appeared on his brow, those long elegant fingers which had grasped her own, only moments before, curled tightly around the head of his infamous cane. To his credit, no matter how hard it was, Lucius Malfoy did not react, any temper he might be of a mind to display remained firmly in check and there was no biting retort.

Hermione was just wondering how far she dare push the former Death Eater, when they were joined by Kingsley Shacklebolt.

“Hermione, you made it, I am so pleased. I really did feel guilty about ruining your _date_.” The Minster flashed her a wide conspiratorial smile, accompanied by a wink.

The young witch kept her face impassive.

“Think nothing of it Kingsley, really, it is actually rather nice to have an excuse to get dressed up. I was just explaining to Mister Malfoy and Draco, where I have been for the last few weeks.”

The Minister for Magic looked from his young employee to the two Malfoy men, the surprise on his face failing to hide the alarm in his eyes. There was no denying Hermione Granger was a brave young woman, she had proved as much over the last few years, but to openly speak to Lucius Malfoy about Azkaban and in front of his son, might be deemed more foolish than brave. None of the present company seemed the worse for the conversation, but the Minister felt perhaps a lighter topic might be in order.

“And I have to say Miss Granger it was well worth the effort.”

Three pairs of eyes fell upon Lucius Malfoy. One blue, clearly shocked by his father’s out of character response. Two brown, one set of which was clearly as surprised as Malfoy’s son. The other flattered, and surprised, if more than a little suspicious.  However, wanting to retain, his good humour, Hermione responded with the same charm and equally unfamiliar affability for the Dark Wizard.

“Thank you Mister Malfoy, it is always nice to know one’s efforts are appreciated.”

It was remarkably easy to forget the dangers this man had once represented, his connections. Easier to forget at this moment than to remember, he hardly appeared a threat anymore and certainly not here, Hermione very much doubted that the Minister would for one moment invited him if he thought he was.

The older blonde nodded his head at her words, his long platinum hair falling over his shoulder with the movement, the lighting in the room making it shine about his face. He moved quickly on turning his attentions away from both his son and Hermione and to the Minister of Magic.

“Might I have a brief word whilst you are here Kingsley?”

“Of course, let’s find somewhere a little quieter.”

“Miss Granger, it has been very…….. _interesting_ to see you again, perhaps we could continue our conversation another time.”  

Talk about turning the tables. Hermione was momentarily caught off guard by his, again, somewhat out of character response, feeling more as if he were simply being courteous in front of others than actually wanting to speak to her again. Despite their past history, Hermione was in fact very keen to speak at length to Lucius Malfoy. It filled her with more trepidation than the month she had just spent in Azkaban Prison, but she wasn’t going to let the opportunity, if it did indeed present itself, pass her by. She didn’t however wish to look too eager on any front, so kept her response and enthusiasm in check.

“You know where to find me Mister Malfoy.” She said blithely.

“Indeed I do Miss Granger.”

Without another word Lucius Malfoy and the Minister for Magic excused themselves leaving the two younger people alone.

 

Despite the constant air of arrogance Draco wore; just like his father, Hermione noticed he looked a little perturbed, and was studying his shiny shoes, his glass was empty and he retrieved another from a passing tray. He said nothing of his father’s interaction with her, merely eluding to it, in a not entirely thrilled manner.

“So do we get to finish **our** conversation now?”

The young wizard was clearly not pleased at having had his conversation hijacked by his father, although Hermione imagined with a man like Lucius Malfoy as your father it was probably quite a common occurrence.

“On one condition Draco”. She returned his somewhat sulky tone with humour.

“We get to do it sitting down.”

Draco once again found himself looking at shoes, this time however they belonged to Hermione.

“Women and their ridiculous footwear.” He muttered under his breath.

Hermione just about caught his words, but noticed his tone was no longer edged with the petulance it had carried moments earlier.

Hermione allowed Draco to guide her out of the Xanadu suite, finding a luxurious white leather sofa for them to sit on, giggling, she kicked of her shoes and grabbed another glass of Champagne. This was her third, coupled with the glass of wine she had had whilst soaking in the tub at home, she would have to be careful or end up like Ginny a few weeks ago. The thought of Ginny reminded her of her friend’s remarks, and she surreptitiously viewed Draco from beneath her lashes.  He had grown up into a nice looking young man, if a tad serious, but Hermione really couldn’t label him “hot”, maybe he just wasn’t her type. She also recalled Ginny’s comments about his father, attractive older man, much as she hated to admit it, they certainly befitted Lucius Malfoy.

“What?” Draco suddenly asked, his voice a little harsher than it had been.

“What, what?” Hermione looked at him in surprise.

“You were staring at me.”

Hermione felt her face flush, she thought she had done a good job of hiding her appraisal from Draco, clearly not; she fumbled for an excuse.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. It was just, err well I was having drinks with Ginny, Ginny Weasley before Christmas, she said she had seen you and your father in Diagon Alley, and that you, err you looked………well.”

Hermione cringed inwardly that had sounded so much better in her head, Draco however didn’t seem to notice either her struggle for words or her rather lame choice of them.

“Considering the last time we saw each other I doubt that was difficult.”

Hermione thought for a moment, casting her mind back, suddenly realising the last time Ginny Weasley saw Draco Malfoy was quite possibly the same day as she herself had, the day Voldemort had declared Harry dead.

“That’s true.”

There was another awkward little silence.

“This is weird right Granger.”

Hermione felt a strange sense of relief ebb into her veins at Draco calling her Granger, almost as if it somehow made him the Draco Malfoy she knew and it put her on familiar ground.

“Very!” She looked at the young blonde, her sworn enemy at school, the only words they had ever traded were nasty and insulting.   Where did they go from here?

They were no longer at school, they certainly weren’t twelve years old anymore, and an awful lot had happened to both of them since then.

“We could try being adults Draco, moving on? Or do you think we might be stretching things a bit?”

Draco looked at the young woman sitting beside him, quite polished and elegant, save the fact she had kicked of her shoes, in a very exclusive hotel and was now sitting on her feet as if she were at home.  Whatever Draco Malfoy thought about Hermione Granger during their years at Hogwarts, he could never deny that she was an intelligent and gifted girl, young woman. She wasn’t his type in that respect, but had things been different Draco Malfoy would have very much like to have included Hermione Granger in his small circle of friends. No matter how you looked at it, she was the very epitome of the word friend, loyal and trustworthy, not someone who was there because of who he was, his family name, or their money. As a child it was one things that irked Draco the most, Hermione Granger’s friendship was not for sale.

Now they were equals, not that they hadn’t been back then, but Draco and his family had a very different view of things then, it was like a lifetime ago. Hermione Granger was a Mudblood, not worthy of them in any way, things, people had changed.

“Do you promise not to punch me in the face Granger?”

Hermione deliberated his question for a moment or two, rubbing her chin as if contemplating an answer, a wry smile tugged at her lips.

“Only if you promise not to call me names Malfoy”

Hermione didn’t think she had ever seen Draco Malfoy laugh, not genuinely laugh, oh she had seen him sneer often enough, she had seen him snigger hatefully at other’s misfortune, but never really laugh.

He raised his glass in her direction. “How about we drink to that?”

Hermione did the same and there was a little tinkle of expensive crystal as their glasses met.

“So in answer to my question, before I was interrupted. What is the smartest witch of her age doing at the Ministry?”

Hermione raised a neatly plucked eyebrow at Draco, his tone was steeped in more than a little sarcasm, a pop at their freshly made deal and her childhood label, and obviously a little jibe at his father for his intervention. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if he would have done the same had Lucius Malfoy been within earshot.

“Actually.” Draco added, looking more than a little intrigued. “I have to say Granger I am more interested in what you were doing in Azkaban.”

 “Well technically I wasn’t in Azkaban, I was at Azkaban.”

“Like there’s a difference.” Draco said emptying his glass yet again.

“Of course, I was visiting, I could leave when I wanted to, I hadn’t been sent there.  It’s part of my job.”

She wasn’t sure she had the patience to explain the intricacies of her new job to Draco, if indeed he would understand what she told him.  He wasn’t stupid by any stretch of the word, but what she did, it was hard for some people to comprehend, he already looked baffled enough at the difference between in and at.

“AHA, full circle back to my original question all that time ago…….what are you doing at the Ministry?”

“Well officially I am Head of Wizard Welfare and Rehabilitation.”

“OK”. He said slowly “Does that mean you are like Madam Pomfrey was at Hogwarts?”

“In a way except I deal with the mental ailments as opposed to the physical ones, the stuff you can’t see.”

“But if you cannot see it Granger, how do you know it’s there, that’s just plain daft.”

“That’s kind of the point.” She knew this was going to be difficult.

“Sometimes people don’t realise there is anything wrong, they think they are fine, which on the outside they may be. But people around them, they see things and know that everything isn’t ok. It might be the after effects of something they have seen or done, obviously in our world it could be the result of a spell gone wrong sometimes they just need a little help dealing with it or to talk to someone that can help them, that’s what I do.”

Draco still looked a little confused, but there was an odd sense of recognition in his face, as if what she had said had struck some kind of chord with him.

 

 


	13. Sad Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So after a meeting of three old adversaries, how did the encounter with Miss Hermione Granger leave Lucius Malfoy feeling...........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you as ever for kudos and comments, gives a girl real heart to write.
> 
> I hope you continue to enjoy the story as it unfolds.

 

 

Lucius Malfoy stepped refreshed and dripping wet from the shower; despite his prejudices, there was an awful lot to be said for many Muggle inventions; plumbing was amongst his favourites. He took a black bath sheet from the pile of neatly stacked towelling, drying his long blonde hair, with a spell, honed over many years, but he preferred the harsh roughness of the brushed cotton against his skin to dry his body. Lately the unforgiving action had become almost therapeutic, losing himself in an almost trance like state, he found himself rubbing his skin harder and harder, making it almost raw at times, but finding some strange comfort in the diverting action, it was like an itch that you couldn’t reach and then all of a sudden you could, the bliss of satiating the irritation was like nothing else, until it came back.

Today as the roughened material, abraded his wet skin, his found his mind drifting back to the previous week, to the Ministry event at the Aurelia Imperial.

It was the first social gathering Lucius had attended since Narcissa’s departure, other than his son, no one was aware that she had left, sometimes he forgot himself, his mind occupied by other things or simply blocking it out.  He hadn’t intentionally kept her leaving a secret, either by choice or by design, it was just that, well it hadn’t arisen as a topic for discussion. Lucius and Draco had often been seen out and about in various places, without the Malfoy Matriarch, especially over the preceding few months, thus her absence had not raised any eyebrows or cause for concern.

Lucius knew he should care where his wife was and if she was alright, but he found himself considering neither, in fact he thought about her very little if at all, Narcissa would not have abandoned her son, he was certain of that, they would be in contact somehow but Lucius didn’t ask, and Draco certainly didn’t volunteer any information regarding his mother. As for those outside, very few people would dare to venture into the private life of Lucius Malfoy, even in passing or polite conversation. Narcissa’s whereabouts simply hadn’t been noticed, or come up, under either circumstance, Lucius was more than happy for it to remain that way.

Despite his initial reservations about the evening, Lucius had actually rather enjoyed himself, he had found parts of it somewhat forced, but that was always the case with such events. Fixing a smile and making idle chit chat, were as de rigueur as putting on your best robes, and picking up your wand, it was what you did, what was expected, Lucius had become somewhat the master of putting on a front. His conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt had however proved enlightening and would, he was sure, be to their mutual benefit. It was also good to be seen out and hold his noble head up high, he didn’t want people thinking he was hiding himself away at Malfoy Manor for any reason. 

A somewhat surprising, yet interesting highlight of his evening had been the very unforeseen encounter with Hermione Granger. The precocious, wild haired, and annoying little Mudblood, who had attended Hogwarts with Draco. It would appear that she now worked at the Ministry, and she had grown up into a feisty, intelligent and rather beautiful young woman. Much as he hated to admit it, and quite probably wouldn’t to anyone out loud, Lucius was more than a little captivated. He had suggested they continue their conversation later, the suggestion had been offered, merely out of politeness, not wishing to appear rude or abrupt in any way, especially in front of either his son, or the Minster for Magic, but as the days had gone by Lucius Malfoy had in fact found himself thinking he would undeniably, like to talk to the once precocious Miss Granger a little more.  He was certainly intrigued as to why she had been at Azkaban, although he would certainly not ask that question outright, feeling sure, given the right provocation or indeed, handling, she would only be too pleased to reveal more on the subject.

The mere thought of the dark and odious prison in the North Sea, sent a chill racing down his spine and made his stomach churn with nausea, he found himself scouring furiously at the now much faded mark on his lower left arm, did he really want to think about the darkest period in his life, let alone contemplate talking about it, just for the sake of continuing a conversation with this young witch?  If, however, the conversation was not all the Dark Wizard hoped it would be, he could simply change the subject, the grown up Hermione Granger, certainly wasn’t unpleasing to the eye. 

Lucius Malfoy suddenly realised that the grown up Hermione Granger, was unbelievably stirring more than just his interest.   The days when revulsion would have quelled any such thoughts, let alone reactions in the pureblood wizard, were long since gone, in fact, if the truth be told, it was a long time since anyone or anything had stimulated any such thoughts or reactions in him at all. He dispelled such folly from his mind, although all the while his body, savoured the long since enjoyed feelings. Taking the roughened cotton, this time to his lower body, he rubbed just as vigorously in a further attempt to banish the decidedly inopportune reactions, finding the abrasive friction doing little to diminish his burgeoning excitement, actually it had the completely opposite effect. Lucius groaned, both a little in relief, that his body was actually still capable of feeling such responses and in frustration at the utter futility of them.  

His long fingers ghosted over his own flesh, he couldn’t honestly remember the last time he had felt so aroused or indeed so quickly, it seemed like another lifetime ago, and over what? A few moments of inconsequential conversation, which was not even remotely sexual, his traitorous body clearly had other interpretations of those few moments and Lucius found his touch becoming firmer, it felt good and his eyes fluttered shut, the towel he had been using, falling to the floor as his attention strayed yet further. Another groan escaped his lips, this one was of pure unadulterated pleasure, pleasure that he had not enjoyed in a very, very long time. His eyes floated open once more, catching sight of his reflection in the long cheval mirror which adorned one corner of his bedroom, his remarkably well-toned body looked back at him, as did the sight of his hand grasping an amply endowed erection. His eyes drifted up to view his own face, a disdainful picture of disgust viewed him from the mirror. The feeling of pleasure slipped from his aristocratic features, being replaced by one of shame as the image continued to look mockingly at him.

Was this what he was reduced to? The adolescent pleasuring of his own body, aroused by…….by what was no more than a passing moment of chatter with a woman young enough to be his daughter, a mere girl who had attended school with his son. A young woman he and his family had openly derided and who he doubted, had it not been for her good manners and the position she now held at the Ministry of Magic, would not even give him the time of day.  Why would she want to talk to a sad contemptible old man, even politeness had its limits?

Lucius released the grip he had on his own body, it flopped pathetically as he bent to pick up the discarded towel on the floor. He wrapped it tightly around his waist, once more glancing in the mirror at the pitiful excuse for a man he had now become, outwardly he might look like the once powerful Lucius Malfoy, it was an image he could still play to a crowd, allow the outside world believe that is who and what he was, but to himself the reflection in the mirror was his true self, a pathetic, sad old man.

 


	14. An Unexpected Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little light relief, but then again perhaps not.......Hermione gets a visitor, quite possibly the last person she expects to see.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual humble thanks for comments and kudos, the usual grovelling for mistakes et al. Enjoy........

 

Hermione Granger sat nursing a cup of steaming hot tea, she really could have done with a double espresso, but the tea room at St Mungo’s served precisely that, any flavour, any colour or any herbal extract as long as it was tea, they clearly hadn’t discovered the delights of a barista machine. In the absence of a blast of thick black caffeine directly into her system, Hermione added an extra sugar to her tea, hoping that a sugar rush might serve the same purpose and give her a much needed boost of energy, she had even brought some kind of chocolate biscuit, although neither seemed to be having much effect.

It was coming up to the end of her third week at St Mungo’s and Hermione was finding her time at the hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries an awfully lot more draining than her time at Azkaban.  She had thus far spent most of her time on the fourth floor, there were some physiological after effects suffered, from creature induced injuries or poisonings but must for the most part they occurred from Spell Damage, as with the case of Gilderoy Lockhart who was a permanent resident at the hospital, he of course was a hopeless case, but others could be helped. Hermione had found herself popping up to see her former Defence Against the Dark Art Professor on a few occasions, despite his loss of memory and his almost childlike state he was happy, he didn’t have a clue who Hermione was, but was as overly charming as ever, and was always delighted to see a pretty face. By the time she went along to see him for the third time he remembered her name and was thrilled to have her company once more, Hermione felt this was almost progress and found him unintentionally lifting her spirits. 

Before returning to the fourth floor in earnest, Hermione needed a pick me up, thus she had wandered up to the fifth and that steaming mug of tea and rather naughty chocolate biscuit, munching on it as she looked out of the window, at the wet London roofs.

“Hi!” Came a vaguely familiar voice from behind her.

Hermione turned to see Draco Malfoy standing at her table, he too was clutching one of the tea room’s brightly coloured cups containing a steaming brew of his own.

“Not exactly red Champagne, would you mind if I joined you?”

A little surprised at not only his request, but at his presence in the hospital, Hermione gestured for him to take a seat.

“Of course, be my guest.” She wanted to ask what brings you here, but bit her tongue, that might be a little too nosey or personal.

“Not sure it would be quite the same in these cups. I think they are thicker than the ones Hagrid used to have.”

“They are not exactly Royal Doulton are they?”

Hermione’s brow shot up even further in surprise, Draco Malfoy knowing about fine bone china now that really was a stretch of even her imagination.

Seeing her surprise, Draco elaborated. “My mo…. parents like nice things, we have a lot of antiques, china and crystal amongst them, I kind of picked up on it.”

Hermione noticed the quick change in his choice of words, but said nothing, instead she stuck to teasing Draco about his knowledge of such things.

“And does your expertise stretch to linens and fine cutlery?”

Draco sipped his tea, knowing he was being teased, it reminded him of being back at school only this time the teasing was done with fun, there was no malice.

“No but I could tell you the difference between a Waterford and a Fostoria.” He said in all seriousness, also taking a sip from the far from delicate, bone china cup.

“I will bow to your far superior knowledge Draco, and assume that these _delightful_ vessels are neither.”

Draco shook his head, a soft smile lifting his lips but not quite reaching his blue eyes, Hermione noticed they looked tired and oddly a little sad, despite his good humour with her.  She wondered whether to take the direct approach with her former nemesis or to pussyfoot around him a little bit, as she would do a reluctant patient.  Draco was no fool, but she was something of an expert when it came to a little subtle wheedling.

“Aren’t you going to ask me Granger?”

Hermione quirked her head to one side, momentarily thrown by Draco’s question, suddenly realising that he was alluding to his own presence here. Well it really wasn’t just somewhere you might happen to stop for tea. 

“Why you are here? Well I was getting around to that but you threw me totally with your knowledge of antique bone china.” She gave Draco a wry smile, not wanting him to know that she was actually burning with insatiable curiosity.

Hermione noticed the young blonde shift a tad uncomfortably in his chair, he obviously wanted to tell her or possibly ask her something, but he felt awkward about doing so. That could only mean it was related to either her work, or possibly a girl. She doubted after years of being sworn enemies Draco was going to be asking her for girlfriend advice. Merlin’s teeth he wasn’t going to ask her out was he, no that would just be too weird, she doubted she was his type anyway; hopefully she wasn’t. Hermione decided to keep things light, try and put him at ease.

“I know why you are here anyway Draco, it’s no secret.”

She saw him blanche visibly, his already pale skin whitening yet further, clearly he was hiding something, she had only intended to wind him up a little, but she had obviously hit a raw nerve.  Hermione covered her tracks quickly, still intending to put him at his ease and pretending she hadn’t noticed his response.

“You’ve been visiting Gilderoy Lockhart, now don’t try and deny it.” She winked at him over the top of her teacup, noticing the tension leave his body and a little twinkle light his eyes.

“Busted. You always were too smart for your own good Granger; Nothing’s changed.”

“Well you know Malfoy once a know it all…..” She smiled reassuringly at him, hoping to light-heartedly cajole out of him why exactly he was sipping tea in the tea room of St Mungo’s on a wet Thursday afternoon.

“The other day when we were talking, I was kind of rude, you were telling me what you did, about ailments and injuries, not being visible and I laughed at you.”

Hermione studied Draco carefully as he spoke, he fiddled his spoon, occasionally twisting the cup in the centre of the saucer, for the first time he avoided eye contact. He was lying to her or at least not being completely honest, but about what she didn’t know; yet.

“I felt bad as we’d agreed to be adults and move on, and there I was a few minutes later being insulting, I’m sorry.”

Now this was a first and more than a little worrying. Draco Malfoy not only admitting that he was out of line but also that he was sorry. Hermione had almost forgotten about the conversation; almost! she Still recalled that odd look in Draco’s eyes, when she had tried to explain to him what she did, but then a noisy room and several glasses of champagne were not exactly conducive to a clear and in-depth explanation of her complicated line of work.  Keeping Draco at his ease was paramount to getting him to elaborate, just as she would a patient.

“Oh Draco honestly don’t give it a second thought, it was a noisy evening, we’d both had a few glasses of champagne and I am sure my description was less than articulate, you know what I am like, I do tend to over complicate things.”

Hermione put the onus back on herself, noticing a brief smile momentarily lift Draco’s lips and for the first time in a while he looked directly at her.

“To be honest Granger I didn’t really get what you meant, maybe you’re right it was the noise or the alcohol, but it was kind of interesting though, it’s a bit like Legilimency right, and that always fascinated me”

There was a flicker of the Draco Malfoy of old in his last few words, but also an element, that oddly Hermione had never thought about. She had learnt Psychology the Muggle way, and had never considered using magic with it in any form, not even since working at the Ministry, there were of course similarities, but the darkness that Hermione frequently dealt with on a daily basis, more often than not involved deeply buried memories that would be well hidden even from a skilled Legilimens, that coupled with the fact her patients didn’t always know they were hiding any such feelings or memories, either from their friends or family or even themselves. 

“I suppose in some ways it could be the Muggle equivalent, but it’s a lot more complicated than that. What I said before people don’t always realise that there is anything wrong, it’s only the people around them that notice things, maybe only little things which are out of character, that could be hiding something else.”

The look on Draco’s face was still a little vague and Hermione knew he didn’t really understand what she was trying to say, maybe she was overcomplicating things again.

“For instance.” She wracked her brain quickly for an analogy that her companion would understand. Picking someone they both knew.

“Take Professor Snape, if you heard him whistling a happy tune on the way to class, it would have been out of character. If he was nice to you, you would be suspicious, wonder what was wrong.  Whilst they maybe a pleasant change, it could also be an indication that something wasn’t quite as it should be. Perhaps even that there is something very wrong indeed.”

Draco nodded slowly. “I get it, like if my father were to suddenly start singing in the shower.”

Hermione felt a sudden invasion of heat rise in her cheeks, clearly Draco got what she meant, but the image of the older Malfoy singing in the shower was really one she didn’t want, or need in her head.

“Well I assume from that; it isn’t something he would normally do.” She tried to keep her thoughts in check and her tone professional.

“So yes that would be out of character and you would ask yourself why. Hopefully it would be something nice that had triggered it, but if say there were lots of little things which didn’t add up, you might begin to wonder if he were under some spell or another.”

Humorous as the image might be of Lucius Malfoy singing in the shower, Hermione realised amusement wasn’t the only thing she was experiencing. She dragged her mind back to Draco, who now seemed deep in thought.  She was once again reminded of that odd look of recognition she had seen on his face a few short weeks ago, was Draco was eluding to himself! Of course, people often referred to others when really they were actually talking about themselves.  It would be perfectly feasible, the young wizard had been through as much as most during the war, and then some. His father had been imprisoned, his family dishonoured. He himself had been asked to commit murder, had watched a lifelong friend fall to his death, into a fire started by another. It would hardly be surprising if Draco Malfoy were suffering some suppressed mental trauma from all of this, and she was sure that neither Lucius or Narcissa would either recognise this or be in a position to help.

“If my father started singing in the shower Granger, I would assume it was someone else Polyjuiced!”

The expression on Draco’s face was priceless and Hermione couldn’t help but laugh out loud, from his demeanour and willingness to talk to her quite so openly, she still found it hard, almost impossible to believe that he could be referring to himself.  Perhaps in this instance Hermione was way off beam, and that the darker side of what she did, simply intrigued the young Malfoy, the only way to be sure was to talk to him further, spend more time with him, without giving him either the wrong impression or letting him know she suspected anything.


	15. An Unexpected Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, hot on the heels of Hermione's unexpected visitor comes an equally unexpected invitation......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My usual thanks etc for "voiced" appreciation. Glad you are enjoying this....

 

Hermione was still pondering her somewhat surprising conversation with Draco Malfoy as she consumed her tea and toast the following morning. She knew she had to tread extremely carefully, it had been Draco who had wanted to pick up the conversation, even going to all the trouble of not only finding out where she was, but also coming to see her.  She didn’t want to bombard him with questions and frighten him off, but all the while that was precisely what she wanted to do, well the questioning part that was. Containing both her own personal interest, and her insatiable professional curiosity was going to be very difficult, however, so far she was rather pleased with herself. She had played it very cool and carefully, but with a certain amount of skill, remaining keen to chat, but apologising profusely to Draco, telling him, she unfortunately had a meeting that she couldn’t get out of, and would have to go, but suggesting that perhaps they meet up again sooner rather than later, when she wasn’t so constrained by time. Hermione didn’t of course have a meeting at all, well nothing that she couldn’t reschedule, but she needed time to think and plan how best to handle this situation, the best approach to take.

The young blonde had been remarkably affable, and even more apologetic that he had disturbed her at work. She wasn’t sure about Lucius Malfoy being Polyjuiced but she was certainly beginning to wonder about his son, two apologies in less than an hour, this was unprecedented, she doubted Draco had apologised this much in his entire life.

Her thoughts about how to proceed with Draco were interrupted by a familiar tapping sound on her window, a large regal looking owl with a vicious beak and huge yellow eyes was perched on her sill possessively clutching a missive.  Oddly enough the bird vaguely reminded her of the one Draco had owned during their first year at Hogwarts, she regarded the impatient looking creature. Perhaps Draco had owled her with a view to taking up her offer of continuing their conversation, he certainly wasn’t wasting any time, it must be important to him.

She opened the window allowing the large bird to deliver its message, instantly recognising the very distinctive Malfoy crest on the reverse of the envelope. The elegant script in black on the front, did not however belong to Draco, not unless his handwriting had improved drastically since their schooldays. The bird gave her a somewhat disdainful look as it turned to leave, ruffling its beautiful sleek plumage and straightening its long back, its lifted its wings gracefully and took flight, Hermione was momentarily put in mind of the older Malfoy. Her brown eyes one more falling to the elegant and confident black script on the front of the expensive parchment.  Her heart flew into her now ridiculously dry mouth, as she traced her forefinger across her name, written neatly, and in full across the cream vellum, **_Miss Hermione Granger_** _,_ suddenly realising the owl was not from Draco at all, but from his father, perhaps Lucius also had a mind to continue their conversation, she laughed out loud at the notion.  Malfoys’ were proving to be very much like Muggle buses, you don’t see one for ages and then two come along together, wiping the butter off the knife which sat on the table, Hermione sliced through the heavy paper, her eyes instantly drawn to the flowing signature at its foot, before anything else, in the same beautifully elegant script the name Lucius Malfoy did indeed grace the end of the note.  An odd little frisson of excitement raced through Hermione’s veins, trepidation wasn’t too far behind, it was neck and neck with more insatiable curiosity.

_My Dear Miss Granger_

_First of all, let me say how nice, if a little surprising it was to see you the other evening. May I also be permitted to once again say, how lovely you looked, and so grown up. One forgets, even with a son of the same age, how quickly time passes._

Hermione could almost hear Lucius Malfoy’s aristocratic tones as she read the words, see his haughty look of distain, oddly though, she felt a certain amount of sincerity in his words.  Whatever else Lucius Malfoy was, he was always exceedingly well mannered, even if there was a hint of menace behind those same impeccably good manners. The letter seemed a long way removed from the man she knew of old, a rather snap assumption to make, she told herself, after the briefest of conversations and a few written words. Although these days it seemed all too easy to forget that Lucius Malfoy was in fact a former Death Eater, not to mention Draco’s father.

“ _Attractive older man, tall blonde, bad boy.”_ Ginny’s voice echoed in her head once more, her words summed him up all too perfectly and she shooed them angrily away, silencing the tinkling voice, in the back of her mind. Who would have thought, when Ginny mentioned the Malfoy’s a couple of months ago, she would encounter both of them so soon and quite so forcefully? She read on.

_I hope you do not consider me impertinent in any way, writing to you in this fashion, but it was genuinely interesting talking to you, all be it so briefly, and I was hoping that you might take me up on my offer to continue our conversation sometime._

It was signed simply, _Sincerely, Lucius Malfoy._

As well as the sing song voice of Ginny Weasley inside Hermione’s head, she also heard the rather stern and somewhat disapproving voice of reason, with a litany of reasons why she shouldn’t meet with the Dark Wizard.  The list was topped with; the past and has he told Mrs Malfoy about his desire to “continue the conversation”.  Hermione reasoned back with it, Lucius Malfoy would make an excellent study subject, he had endured Azkaban, come out the other side, had resumed his normal life; her interest and desire to talk further with him was purely professional, Ginny Weasley’s girlish giggles could be heard loudly over any reasoning, along with a sarcastic “Oh of course they are.”

She pushed all of the irritating little voices out of her head and finished getting ready for work. Thankfully it was Friday, it had been a very long, and quite tiring week, she hadn’t had time to put together any of the notes and reports she had made on the various patients she’d seen at St Mungo’s, so decided to spend today doing just that. Hopefully she could get away a little earlier than usual, she had no plans this weekend and was looking forward to just relaxing and unwinding. She would be returning to Azkaban on Monday and needed a quiet weekend to prepare. The time she had spent here at St Mungo’s, gave her a renewed sense of what she needed to do at the prison, she would require time and a little peace and quiet, to get her thoughts in order and plan how best to go about that. 

Thinking about Azkaban reminded her of the note from Lucius Malfoy, she had slipped it in her bag before leaving her flat, intending to reply as soon as she arrived at the hospital, but as usual, time had gotten away from her and it was now mid-morning. The two voices from earlier had been arguing in her subconscious for hours, doing nothing for her concentration.  She had ended up silently arguing with both of them, defending her own reasons for wanting to talk to the former inhabitant of Azkaban. It was a simple chat, well perhaps not exactly simple, but he seemed as curious to find out what she had been doing at the prison, as she was to find out about the time that he had spent there, it would be mutually beneficial. She very much doubted Lucius Malfoy had any other reason for wanting to speak to her, and she certainly had no ulterior motives, well other than poking around inside his head that was.

Ginny had planted those annoying seeds of something else inside her head, Hermione would not give them room to grow, however as she thought more about the formidable blonde, they began to sprout of their own volition.  She was a grown woman now for Merlin’s sake, she could meet with a man, older, attractive and bad he might be, but it was just conversation, it was work. She grabbed a pen and began to write………

_Dear Mr Malfoy_

_How unexpected it was to receive your owl this morning. It was, as you say, nice, and somewhat of a surprise to see both you and Draco, I trust you both enjoyed the evening._

_I hope that this does not sound rude but, I have to confess I simply assumed that you were being polite when you said you would like to continue our conversation at a later date._

Hermione kept her note light, responding in the same vein as his had been written.

_I would very much like to talk to you again, perhaps the next time you are in London and are not too busy we could arrange to meet._

_Sincerely Hermione Granger_

Hermione dispatched her own owl with the note, feeling rather pleased with her cleverly drafted, non-committal response and treating their intended meeting purely as work. She really had no idea what Lucius Malfoy did these days, she wasn’t entirely sure what he had ever done, legitimately! Whatever it was she doubted he spent much time in London, and was off the hook for a little while. She recalled, he and Kingsley Shacklebolt seemed embroiled in something or another the other day, but Shacklebolt was no Cornelius Fudge, things had changed a lot since his day. Lucius Malfoy might have his wealth and his family name back, but Hermione was certain he no longer wielded the power and influence with the Ministry that he once did.

She was still writing up notes, just after lunch when her owl returned, it was clutching a piece of parchment in its beak, identical to the one she had received earlier in the day. The Malfoy crest emblazoned on the back and that same beautifully elegant black script flowing across the front.

“Merlin’s teeth that was quick.” She patted the bird lightly on the head, slipping it a small treat, as it made itself comfortable on the sill of the small room she was using as a temporary office whilst she was here at St Mungo’s.

_My Dear Miss Granger_

_A delightfully prompt response, although I should have expected nothing less from you. How fortuitous, that I should find myself in London this afternoon, a meeting at the Ministry._

_Please allow me to take you to dinner, I will book a table at the Aurelia Imperial 7.30pm, lets meet in their bar at say 6.30pm._

_Sincerely, Lucius Malfoy_

Hermione starred at the note for what seemed like hours. The effrontery or the man, how did he know she didn’t already have plans for tonight? As if that was actually the point! Dinner this evening with Lucius Malfoy at a hotel. Hermione looked at the note once more, glancing at her owl, sitting expectantly on the window ledge, she grabbed a pen, putting it down almost immediately, reminding herself she was a grown woman, this was just dinner and conversation, it was also work.

“Of course it was” She heard Ginny Weasley’s giggling tones reverberating around inside her head once more.

 


	16. Second Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So will Hermione accept Lucius Malfoy's invitation.......and if she does what will happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you's blah blah as ever. Kind words, comments and Kudos always much appreciated :-) they give a girl heart to carry on writing.

Had he really taken total leave of his senses? What was he thinking? Well the answer to that was blatantly obvious and simple enough, clearly he wasn’t thinking at all.   
He had to be out of his mind, a phrase he pushed to the back of his head with lightning speed, he couldn’t account for some of the things he had done recently, some of the decisions he had made, he put them down to making changes in his life. Hopefully they were changes for the better, but at times he wasn’t sure if they were good or bad, or if indeed some of the changes needed to be made at all. He spent hours arguing with himself on their merits, with this particular decision however, he didn’t have hours to argue with himself. Lucius Malfoy had already admonished himself once for being a foolish old man. Telling himself that Hermione Granger was simply being professional and polite in humouring him, although, even he doubted that same politeness and professionalism, stretched as far as having dinner with a man who had, directly or indirectly been party to so many dreadful things which had happened to her and her friends. In his mind Lucius shifted the onus, perhaps Miss Granger had an ulterior motive, a hidden agenda of her own.   
Despite all of that, what in Merlin’s name possessed him to owl her and suggest dinner? He really had no idea, perhaps he really was just trying change things or rather people’s perception of him, and for some inexplicable reason, Lucius Malfoy did want to change Hermione Granger’s view of him. It was however more likely to be driven by his ridiculous misplaced ego, or possibly a perverse sense of self torture, payback for his past misdemeanours; and it truly would be self-torture. He was no fool, however his mind might be working at the moment, he couldn’t hide the fact that, his burning sense of curiosity revolved around her visit to Azkaban, and he certainly could not ask her about it without volunteering some information of his own. The merest thought of the place was enough to turn his stomach, accelerate his heart rate, and cause a damp sweat to soil his robes, it was hardly conversation for the dinner table. However, they had little else to make small talk about, they were scarcely old friends catching up on old times, what they had been up to since they had last seen each other.   
Not that any of it actually mattered, Hermione Granger would have much better things to do on a Friday evening, than have dinner with him. Her refusal was a forgone conclusion, merely a formality, a thank you but……. penned with that same polite professionalism she had exhibited in person at their first meeting.   
His mind had pictured a prim, smartly dressed Hermione Granger sat at her very neat desk, nothing out of place, as she took great delight in turning down his stupidly rash invitation. He had sneeringly sliced open the promptly returned response with the vicious blade of a glinting letter opener. There was the thank you, but; there was no but. The sneer had even turned to a small smile at her words, she thinking the exact same as him, that their wish to continue the conversation was simply a case of civility.   
He could hardly withdraw his invitation now, not of course that he wanted to, his male vanity preened at the thought of spending a few hours in the company of a rather beautiful and intelligent young woman. Young being the operative word, he shook his head once more at the folly he had banished previously, reminding himself again she was the same age as his son, that they had been at school together. A far more irritating little voice in the back of his head was also busy pointing out that this was hardly a romantic assignation, he tried to label what this actually was. Utter foolishness, the irritating little voice pointed out even more unhelpfully; however, Lucius Malfoy was inclined to agree with it, the two real issues here, other than his foolishness, were in fact, that if this was anyone, other than Hermione Granger, he would not give her age or anything else a second thought. Whatever else he might be, Lucius Malfoy was a man, this would plain and simply be, two adults having dinner on the back of an earlier encounter. How the evening ended would be their choice, as would where it went from there. But this was Hermione Granger and he was giving everything a second thought. The other issue was the fact that this was the first time he had been out to dinner alone with a woman who wasn’t his wife, for the first time in quite possibly, more than twenty years. The thought brought some disturbing home truths home to roost.   
He would send her an owl, apologising that his meeting had overrun and that unfortunately he would be unable to make dinner. Hermione Granger worked at the Ministry of Magic, he reminded himself, just how difficult would it be for her to find out that nothing of the sort had occurred. He refused to spend more time arguing with himself over decisions made, it was dinner, he was an adult, she was a chit of girl, he could handle a couple of hours of conversation, some food and a decent bottle wine, Lucius Malfoy needed to get a grip. 

Never by any stretch of her imagination had Hermione imagined being back at this exclusive location quite so quickly, let alone having dinner with a man who was once her sworn enemy. Apprehension flooded her veins, she wasn’t sure she had been this nervous the first time she had walked through the fortress like doors of Azkaban. What had happened to that common sense Hermione always prided herself on?  
The staff at the beautiful hotel, were equally as attentive as they had been when she was here on Ministry business, finding them even more so, when she told them she was Lucius Malfoy’s guest and that he was expecting her. Hermione was shown into the opulent bar, she hadn’t been in here on her last visit, in fact she had seen very little of famed wizard London location the last time she was here. She found it was a complete contrast to the foyer and atrium, there was no hard marble and bright lighting. The colours were the same, but the red was sumptuous leather, an array of high back chairs and deep sofas. The black was wood, shiny ebony, which made up the long bar and tables dotted around the room. The white was the beautiful thick carpet which covered the floor and the candles which drifted around the room, bathing it in a gloriously dim and very intimate glow. Hermione swallowed hard, her pulse racing frantically. Lucius Malfoy hadn’t seen her, she could turn and leave without him ever knowing, she had been there. But, as well as being well known for her common sense, Hermione Granger was also rather famed for her bravery, facing up to the Dark Lord with her friends, finding and destroying Horcruxes, this was only diner. Dinner with a former Death Eater, a Dark Wizard, Voldermort’s right hand man, a nervous and shrill little voice screamed in her ear. “Dinner with an attractive older man, tall blonde, bad boy.” Ginny Weasley’s voice whispered in a sing song tone in the other ear. She shook her head in an attempt to dispel all of the voices vying for her attention. She straightened her spine, tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, took a very deep steadying breath and moved further into the room.  
Lucius Malfoy was already here, even though she herself was early. He stood at the end of the bar, his distinctive aristocratic profile accentuated in the shadowy light, his formidable presence dominating a room filled with gentle conversation and the occasional sound of tinkling laughter. He looked every bit as elegant and imposing as he had done at their previous meeting, if not as totally assured as he had then, something had changed, even at this distance she could see it. As she moved closer and he became aware of her presence it changed again, that implacable air of poise and confidence once more firmly in place. Had this been anyone else Hermione would have simply put it down to a little apprehension, meeting someone at a party for the first time in years was one thing, having dinner with them was something else entirely, as she herself was beginning to realise, but this was Lucius Malfoy, apprehension was not a word she readily associated with him. She couldn’t help but wonder if the Dark Wizard regretted his invitation as much as she was having second thoughts about accepting it. Courage came flooding back and that little spark of defiance reared its head once more in Hermione, she wasn’t about to let that happen, Lucius Malfoy would not regret extending his invitation, she would make sure of it.  
“Good evening Mister Malfoy, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting, I was hoping I would be the first to arrive.” She flashed him an apologetic smile as she extended her hand.   
Just as before it wasn’t shaken, but raised chivalrously to his lips where they once more brushed softly against her skin. Hermione couldn’t prevent the girlish flush that stung her cheeks or the quickening rate of her already overactive pulse.   
“No apologies necessary Miss Granger, I was early, my meeting finished ahead of schedule and I had no other business in town.” He raised his hand authoritatively to summon the barman.  
Every time Lucius Malfoy called her Miss Granger, Hermione felt like she was 12 years old, something else she was not going to allow happen, she knew very little about Draco’s father and for some incomprehensible reason decided right there and then that was going to change too, something told Hermione she had to get the upper hand and she had to get it very quickly, or he would forever make her feel like that fiery 12-year-old.   
“Hermione please, every time you call me Miss Granger I feel like I am 12.” Hermione flashed another smile at Lucius Malfoy, carefully watching his reaction.   
Just as before he was very good, concealing his reactions perfectly, but Hermione caught the slight surprise, dare she say shock, which flickered in his pale grey eyes. This was a man used to being in control, taking the lead, that much Hermione did know about Draco’s father, she didn’t want to be too forceful with him, but at the same time wanted him to be under no illusions about the woman she now was or where he stood. They were strangers to each other, they had history, but that too was very limited, Hermione wanted to ensure that if Lucius Malfoy did want to get to know her, there would be no pretence, no hiding the person she was, simply because he was Lucius Malfoy.   
The barman had appeared and was waiting patiently.  
“What would you like to drink Miss Gr….”  
Lucius Malfoy noted the neatly plucked and very sharply raised brow that accompanied his address, he corrected himself quickly “Hermione?”  
A small smile lifted her lips, her name sounding rather alien on those distinctive clipped tones, but at the same time rather nice. She didn’t look back at him, instead, Hermione cast her gaze to the vast array of bottles that lined the sparkling glass shelves. Her companion was nursing a Firewhiskey, and much as she would like to have said, she would have the same, daring failed her. She didn’t know what effect the potent spirit would have on her, and Hermione needed to keep her wits about her, even verbally sparring with Lucius Malfoy she had her work cut out, sticking safely to a small glass of beautifully chilled white wine. She was about to perch on one of the red leather bar stools, when Lucius Malfoy suggested they make themselves more comfortable elsewhere, nodding she followed him across the thick pile carpet, to one of those deep leather sofas she had noticed on the way in. He gestured for her to sit, gentlemanly waiting for her to be seated before he did so himself. For some reason Hermione assumed that he would take the slightly higher backed leather chair, it somehow seeming, more befitting to, not only his person, but also to his attire, but the man slipped easily in next to her, his dark robed arm casually resting on the back of the heavy leather seat. It was Hermione’s turn to control her reactions, fighting even harder as a smartly booted foot came to rest effortlessly on his knee, for some reason it wasn’t a posture she expected him to take, it seemed far too informal and relaxed for him.   
Now it was Lucius Malfoy who was carefully watching her and quite blatantly too. Hermione took a large sip of her wine, once more taking the lead, more determined than ever to stand her ground.  
“So Mister Malfoy.”  
“Lucius” He said curtly and without preamble.  
Hermione was already wavering under his penetrative gaze, his natural following of suit, that she should also address him by his given name, threw her just enough for him to notice.  
“If I am to call you Hermione, it is only right that you should call me by my name.”  
She regained her composure quickly, brushing over his words as if they were insignificant but not rudely.  
“So Lucius….” This time her smile was coy but her honey brown eyes twinkled as she spoke, she tried to keep them steady as once again she found his pale grey eyes fixed intently on her.   
She shifted her position, perhaps a little flirtatiously, but she didn’t want Lucius thinking she was about to give him an inquisition of some sort, the arm that was resting on the back of the couch, now rested just behind her back.  
“Just what do I owe the pleasure of this invitation?”


	17. Polite Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Lucius' evening continues with some polite conversation......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever thank you for continued comments and kudos.

 

Lucius Malfoy surreptitiously studied the young woman sitting so confidently next to him, she had changed very little since their very first meeting nigh on a decade ago. He could strangely still recall vividly, those same big, warm brown eyes, sparkling and narrowing with defiance at him, how quickly she had retorted on behalf of the Potter boy and how little fear she had of him, even then.  Despite his misgivings about this situation and his reasons for being here, he was certainly right about one thing, Hermione Granger had grown into a very beautiful young woman. 

Lucius would hardly consider himself an expert or an authority in any way when it came to women. He had only really known one almost his entire life, and at times lately, he wasn’t really sure how well he had known her, it didn’t however stop him, as a man appreciating their beauty or their attributes, be they physical or otherwise. Hermione Granger brought out some very odd reactions in the Dark Wizard, and not just the obvious kind.

“For all of my faults and failings Hermione, I am always true to my word. When I said it would be nice to continue our conversation, I meant it, it was not, as you had assumed an idle remark.”

Hermione viewed the imposing man seated beside her, why she had doubted that Lucius Malfoy would say anything he didn’t mean was beyond her, perhaps the why, she found difficult to comprehend was more along the lines of, why he would want to. Talking to his son had initially proved a little awkward but at least they had some common ground, it might only be a very small patch but it was a place to start. Where the hell did she start with his father? She decided with a man like Lucius Malfoy, honesty and forthrightness was the answer, she didn’t want anything coming back to bite her on the bum later, it was an odd thought which sent a peculiar frisson and wave of heat through her veins, serenaded by sound of Ginny Weasley’s tinkling laughter.

“In that case Mister…. Lucius.” She really did like how his name sounded when she said it, but still found it rather strange using it.

“I shall be perfectly honest; my question really should be why. I find it flattering, if a little out of character that you would not only want to talk to me at any length, let alone over dinner and at such an expensive establishment.”

Hermione took a large sip of her wine, before returning the glass to the highly polished wooden table. If she wasn’t very much mistaken a very small smirk, no it was a very small smile twitched on the blonde’s full lips. Saying she was flattered clearly pandered to his ego, as did putting herself down.

“I appreciate both your honesty and your frankness, it is what I always recall most about you.”

That this man of all people would recall _anything_ about her, caught Hermione completely off guard, by his response, the surprise must have been once more reflected in her face, she clearly needed to work on her poker face when it came to Lucius Malfoy.

“You alluded to a previous meeting just now, that my calling you _Miss Granger,_ made you feel like a twelve-year-old, I have to say I remember that feisty 12-year-old only too well. I also remember telling Mister Potter that he was very brave…...”

Hermione noticed a slight waiver in Lucius Malfoy’s clipped tones, his pale grey gaze momentarily releasing her own, gone as quickly as it had come, the Dark Wizard continued.

“And yet I felt you were the brave one, defending your friend so quickly and so fearlessly, against me. I do not wish that that should sound conceited in any way, but well, let’s just say I had a bit of reputation and I am sure Draco was only too pleased to bolster it at school.”

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure how she should react or feel about any of Lucius Malfoy’s remarks or revelations, that he remembered their meeting at all, was surprising enough, let alone with such clarity or that he should think that she was the brave one.

“I always was a bit outspoken, it got me into quite a bit of trouble at school.” She played down what she could only interpret as his compliment.

“And what about now?”

The Dark Wizard didn’t miss a beat, his question as sharp and probing as that silver gaze of his.

Hermione reached for her glass once more, finding she needed something to with her hands, fiddling with her hair or her clothing would make her appear nervous, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

“Now Lucius….” She paused meeting that gaze head on once more. “Nothing has really changed; I am still very outspoken I just no longer get detention for it.”

Hearing Draco laugh had been a totally alien sound, to hear out and out laughter from his father was beyond belief.

Candid amusement was another emotion that Lucius Malfoy had not enjoyed in a very long time, he couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had made him genuinely laugh, let alone out loud, but he found himself unable to supress it, for some inexplicable reason it seemed to come quite easily tonight, and he really did have no idea why, the young witch he had once reviled was a breath of fresh air, in every sense of the word.

He was always putting on a face for others, but tonight, he felt he could almost be himself, not that he could actually remember what being himself was like, it was better that way. He had once told the Dark Lord, the face he presented each day was his true mask, and over time he had actually come to believe that. He wasn’t sure who the real Lucius Malfoy was anymore, sometimes he just wanted to run away and try and rediscover his true self, how foolish and fanciful that sounded. He hadn’t run very far at all today, in fact he hadn’t run at all, but he found himself not having to, this, this no more than a girl, a girl who had gone to school with his son, given him cheek at such young age, had stripped away a layer so quickly, with such ease and without even knowing it and without even trying.  

“How nice to see and hear you laugh.” The words were out before she could stop them, hardly falling into the outspoken category, but perhaps a little overly familiar, she thankfully managed to curtail the, _it makes you look younger and so much more attractive than the sneer;_ but only just….chewing on her bottom lip, just to make sure the words remained unsaid.

“There hasn’t been much to laugh about……on the occasions where we met previously.”

Hermione got the distinct impression, that although his statement was perfectly true, he wasn’t actually alluding to their previous meetings, that it had been added on as an afterthought, it was almost as if he had momentarily forgotten himself.  Prior to their actual last encounter here at the hotel, the last time Hermione had seen Lucius Malfoy was the day Hogwarts fell, and before that, she took another hefty swig of her wine; before that was at Malfoy Manor, a day she would rather forget.  She quickly cast that hateful memory aside, the feisty streak of devilment when it came to Draco’s father, once again firing her blood.

“Yes those Ministry events can be a little tedious, and not much fun.” She saw a flicker of confusion cross Lucius Malfoy’s face, his eyes suddenly twinkling with realisation that she was, after all these years still giving him cheek.

Hermione Granger’s cheek stirred an odd mixture of emotions in the Dark Wizard all of which invaded his brain and his body at the same time. He was right that she hadn’t changed, he liked that, enemies at one time they might have been, but Lucius Malfoy had always admired her spirit, her fire. It was something Draco had never shown as a child, and even now his son showed little of these qualities, he wondered for a moment if had they been friends at school, if some of this might have rubbed off onto his son. His trail of thought was interrupted by her voice, calm and gentle, he felt something touch his leg.

“Lucius are you alright?” Hermione had seen a sudden faraway look come over her companion, and he no longer heard what she was saying to him. “Lucius?”

“Oh please my dear, forgive me.” Lucius was struggling with the slender fingers which rested just above his knee, pale against his dark robes, his eyes drawn to their blood red tips. A mere reaction of concern for his wellbeing he knew, but they thwarted his concentration and flooded him with yet more conflicted feelings and emotions.

“An odd thought occurred to me and distracted me.”

Hermione didn’t remove her hand, it was something she had learnt through her training, if a person was responsive to touch and didn’t react badly to it, it forged a stronger connection. Why she would want a stronger connection to Lucius Malfoy, Merlin alone knew, but there was something about this man, there were a lot of things about this man; if she could spend weeks in Azkaban, she could get to know Lucius Malfoy.  She ventured on, using a little reverse psychology.

“I don’t think I want to know.” She gave him a cheeky little grin.

A weary little smile touched his own lips, his hand patting hers almost appreciatively, his fingers coming to rest against her own, neither of them seemed to take any notice of the action, it was something friends did all the time, the difference of course being, she and Lucius Malfoy were hardly friends.  Her ploy worked and he easily gave up where his train of thought had taken him.

“A little, foolish paternal musing.” He waved his other hand dismissively, trying not to put too much emphasis on his thoughts. He noticed that quizzical very neat brow lifting at his words and felt compelled to continue.

“I was just wondering…. had things been different and you and Draco been friends at school, whether he would have picked up any of your traits. My son could certainly have benefitted from a little of your spirit, not to mention your aptitude.”

Hermione couldn’t fail to pick up on the somewhat jaded note that laced his aristocratic tones, or the slight hint of sadness which clouded his usually bright silver grey eyes, she couldn’t help but wonder if it were in some way connected to the conversation she’d had with his son.  Uncertain as to whether Draco had mentioned his visit, she pushed her concerns to the back of her mind, she certainly didn’t want to betray any confidences, or cause any undue worry. She harked back to Lucius’ comment, something else she didn’t want to do was offend him, especially after he had been so surprisingly honest with her, Lucius had said he admired her spirit and her fire, Hermione went with her gut.

“Trust me your son has both! He just, well perhaps we should just say he channelled them differently and only chose to use either when it suited him.” The sharply raised blonde eyebrow both amused and alarmed her.  His reply left her almost speechless., almost…..

“Why do you think that was Hermione, you might not have been friends with Draco, but one way or another you spent much of your formative years in and out of each other’s company.”

What made Lucius Malfoy think she had an opinion on his son? In truth until Ginny had mentioned them and then she had bumped into them both herself, she hadn’t given either a second thought. More to the point why would he want to hear it? Hermione tried to keep her mind in work mode, finding it more and more difficult; finding Lucius Malfoy more and more interesting. She sensed he was baiting her, but wasn’t entirely sure why; sport perhaps, his own amusement? She had a feeling a little verbal sparring in elegant surroundings was a much more enjoyable pastime for Lucius Malfoy, that the cold outdoors of the Quidditch pitch. She could orally duel with the best of them, so if that is what he wanted, who was she to deny him. How far she could push him was another question entirely.

“You!”


	18. Stepping Into The Abyss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So how will Lucius react to Hermione's comment.......................

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My usual thanks for comments and Kudos. I am glad you are enjoying this, I know its a slow burner, but when the heat goes up, it REALLY goes up.

 

Oh hell had she really said that word out loud? Two sharply raised dark blonde brows and a rather frosty glittering silver gaze indicated that clearly she had.

Lucius’ physical reactions belied his mental ones, he hadn’t been in the least bit surprised by her answer, the surprise coming more from the bluntness that she had conveyed, and her willingness to tell him, he fought once more to control that little flicker of amusement which bubbled under the surface. He was in no doubt that, very little scared or intimidated Hermione Granger, but he sensed she was still just a little wary of him and he was more than happy to keep it that way.  He adopted his best superior air and most clipped tones.

“Did you not wish to please your parents with your achievements at school?”

Hermione continued to maul the inside of her bottom lip, finding the metallic taste of blood did not mix well with the chilled wine.  She really was stepping into the abyss here, she pushed the prisoners in Azkaban and even the patients in St Mungo’s when she needed to, sometimes to their limits, but they were quite often restrained in every sense of the word. She doubted pushing Lucius Malfoy to any limits would result in any restraint of any kind, or anything good, but the little devil in Hermione, when it came to this man was stamping his foot and egging her on.

“My parents as you are well aware, were Muggles, returning home and telling them I had come top of the class in transfiguration, potions or had mastered a new skill in flying lessons really didn’t mean as much to them as I am sure it would have done to you and Mrs Malfoy.”

Hermione noticed a small waver in the Dark Wizard’s stoic demeanour when she mentioned his wife, it was good to remind him that he had and wife, and to remind herself, but that was all it was a small waver, his face gave nothing else away.

“An A in English Literature or top of the class in some science or another would have meant much more to them, but ……”

It was Hermione’s turn to waver, she thought about her parents every day and what she had been forced to do, to protect them from Death Eaters, from people like Lucius Malfoy. She pushed the thought aside, this was not the time or place for that conversation, if anywhere would ever be the time and place for that conversation.

Whilst the mention of his wife had caused a little unease in Lucius, Hermione’s use of her parents in the past tense was far more unsettling, as was the sense of concern which ebbed through him. After two very brief meetings, he hardly felt in a position to press his concern or ask any such personal questions of her.

Hermione had regained her equanimity, drawn herself back to the present, the past and the future had been put to the back of her mind, they would have to wait.

“But” She continued brightly offering her companion a knowing smile. “As parents they were always proud of me, and of my achievements, whatever they were, and I always worked hard and did my best to please them and make sure they had reason to be proud.”

Bringing the conversation nicely back to his original remark. “As I am sure Draco did.”

Knowing what the younger Malfoy was like at school, the company he kept, and often his total disregard for any serious learning, she found it hard to picture life at Malfoy Manor.  Draco returning home during school holidays, regaling his parents with tales from Hogwarts, she imagined it a far more Victorian, ironically draconian existence, more regimented even than school. Whilst Lucius Malfoy might over indulge and spoil his only son, Hermione had the distinct impression he was a strict disciplinarian, who if he’d known precisely what his son got up to at school, would not be best pleased.

“As I said my son would have done well to have applied himself more to his studies rather than trade on fear and the Malfoy name.”

In her surprise at his words, Hermione heard the resignation in Lucius sharp aristocratic tones, clearly the man had known exactly what his son was like at school, what he did and didn’t get up to, perhaps the blonde hair and constant air of superiority weren’t the only things Draco had inherited from his father.

“As I am sure you can imagine Hermione; I am not an easy man to please.”

The little Devil had joined forces with Ginny Weasley, her concentration and her thoughts taking a sharp nose dive straight into the gutter, burning heat suffused her body………

_“So how do you please an attractive older man, a tall blonde, bad boy?”  The little devil asked to the annoyingly familiar accompaniment of Ginny Weasley’s tinkling laughter._

Where the hell had that notion sprung from, her red headed friend’s smiling face danced tipsily before her eyes, she knew only too well, how the seed had been planted. Obviously in the darker recesses of her mind, it had been allowed a little germination, and was now shooting into a full blown tree, as the man in question sat elegantly before her. It would appear that Lucius Malfoy was not the only one who was behaving uncharacteristically

Hermione felt the heat start at in her toes or was it the top of her head, all she knew right at this moment was it burnt her face and heated somewhere in the middle, somewhere particularly embarrassing in the middle, she shifted slightly in her chair, feeling the heat spread like a forest fire. Fortunately, Lucius Malfoy’s attention was momentarily diverted, and he did not seem to notice her discomfiture.

“It would appear that our table is ready, come, we shall continue this conversation over dinner.”

He rose effortlessly from beside her amidst a rustle of expensive fabric, Hermione wasn’t sure if she was grateful for the distraction or terrified at the prospect of continuing anything over dinner. Taking the arm which was proffered to her, as always with unqualified chivalry, did very little to balance her equilibrium, nor did the sudden waft of Lucius Malfoy’s intoxicating cologne. She however dutifully allowed him to lead her into the dining room, once more recounting her little mantra to herself, politeness and professionalism at all times. This time however, it failed to help, faltering under a cloud of spicy heady scent which infiltrated her senses and took her mind to another place, engulfing her seductively as Lucius Malfoy’s years of breeding and good manners took over and he pulled out the seat for her at their table.

“Thank you.” She practically squeaked at him as she took her seat, looking at the meticulously laid table, looking at anything but the imposing figure of Lucius Malfoy, who she now sat facing, in what could only be described as a rather intimate corner of the dining room.

Hermione inwardly cursed Ginny Weasley, with a few alcohol induced words, she had managed to turn Lucius Malfoy from an enemy, the father of a fellow pupil, a married man for Salazar’s sake, into………….. into what exactly?  He was still all of those things, he was still Draco’s father, he was still, very much a married man, but perhaps he wasn’t quite so much the enemy these days. Unfortunately, Ginny Weasley had turned Lucius Malfoy simply into a man, a man who, for some very strange and inexplicable reason Hermione Granger was now acutely aware of.

She tried the politeness and professionalism mantra again, as a short, rather rotund little man appeared at their table, he was dressed very sombrely and was clutching what looked like a copy of Hogwarts, A History, but turned out to be the wine list.  In view of the track her thoughts were currently taking, after only glass, Hermione pondered the wisdom of further alcohol. Lucius took the heavily bound volume from the small, fat man and flipped through the ridiculous amount of pages.  Hermione found herself studying the Dark Wizard as intently as he studied the vast list of no doubt impeccable vintages, noticing his long lashes as his eyes skimmed one page and then another, the slight curve of his cruel, yet surprisingly sensual mouth. This was silly, Hermione flushed once more to the tips of her toes as her studious brown gaze was met by questioning silver grey.

“Do you have any preferences Hermione……… red, white, rosé, Champagne?”

Even his question seemed loaded, the little fat man hovering attentively at the side of the table cleared his throat, as if possibly to make a suggestion, but catching Lucius somewhat glittering silver gaze thought better of it.  He turned his beady eyes back expectantly to Hermione.

Other than grabbing a quick bottle now and again from the shop, she knew next to nothing about wine. Sometimes it was red, sometimes it was white, sometimes it was pink, nothing that would be on the wine list that Lucius Malfoy now perused, and she was certain that Malfoy Manor had an entire cellar full of excellent vintages.  She was suddenly reminded of Draco’s unexpected expertise when it came to fine china, wondering if his father had a similar knowledge when it came to fine wine. Thankfully Ginny Weasley had stopped giggling and the little devil was alone and left to his own devices, one at a time she could handle them.

“Oh please Lucius, you choose; my knowledge of wine is limited to whatever they have in the shop.” Flattering the man’s ego and being just a little flirtatious with him, seemed to work very nicely.

The sommelier turned his focus to Lucius, the blonde wizard closed the voluminous book, with a rather dramatic flick of the wrist and returned it to the little man, he didn’t order, his eyes were firmly fixed on Hermione as he spoke.

“Despite what experts say.” His silver gaze fleetingly fell on the little man waiting patiently at his side.

“I do not think one should confine certain colour wines, to certain meals. Personally, I prefer what pleases my palate.” With that he finally turned his full attention to the anxious sommelier.

“The Nuits St Georges, I will taste it now, but you can allow it to breath until we have ordered.”

The little man strode away, Hermione had noticed a brief look of irritation in his beady little eyes, wine was his job, she was certain that he did not need Lucius Malfoy or anyone else come to that, telling him to allow it to breath!

The rather amusing interlude with the wine waiter had given Hermione a chance to regain her composure and reign in her wandering thoughts. They ordered their meals from yet another waiter, equally as sombrely dressed but slender and almost as tall as Hagrid, and returned to their conversation. Lucius clearly wanting to pick up where he had left off.

Hermione’s last recitation of politeness and professionalism had clearly hit home. The little devil was still there but without his giggling partner in crime, Hermione enjoyed his input…….

“You were telling me Lucius that you were a _hard man to please.”_

Those wandering thoughts were still there, but when _she_ was in control of them, they were much easier to channel, Hermione was determined to keep the former Death Eater on his toes and leave him in no doubt that she would not be intimidated by him.  Catching an almost raised brow, what was very nearly a smirk and what was definitely a twinkling in those piercing grey eyes, left Hermione in no doubt Lucius Malfoy was still a very formidable opponent and that he was all too well aware of what she was doing.  But Hermione also saw something else flicker in their grey depths, it wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t even guilt, although perhaps it should have been. Anyone else and she would have said it was an element of doubt, but again she reminded herself, this was Lucius Malfoy.


	19. Cat And Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So as dinner continues, so does the game and something comes to light........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks for kudos, comments and of course your patience. You will get your reward.

 

Lucius Malfoy found himself in a very unexpected situation, discovering that Hermione Granger was remarkably easy, and dare he admit, most enjoyable company, it was something he had honestly not anticipated. He found any old prejudices he might have harboured crumbling under a barrage of intelligence, honesty, forthrightness and very sharp wit. None of those attributes of course really surprised him, even at the tender age of twelve she had exhibited most of those qualities.

Lucius also found himself in a quandary, he was of course still curious as to her remarks at the Ministry event, about spending time at Azkaban, but he wasn’t sure he could trust himself to keep his emotions under control and talk rationally about the heinous place, or even if he really wanted to. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Lucius was relaxed.  He didn’t think before he spoke, and he didn’t feel as if he were hiding behind well-constructed façade, Lucius didn’t want to let go of that by thinking or talking of darker times. Thus he avoided any conversation about her work, at least until they had eaten their main course. His enquiry then, run of the mill and light, Hermione herself giving him the perfect segue into the conversation.

“This is a very beautiful place; I really didn’t get to see much of it when I was here last time, one room and the foyer was about it.”

Hermione cast a cursory glance around the room, enjoying the overly ostentatious luxury of her surroundings, doubting she would find herself back any time soon. She had enjoyed the opportunity to get dressed up for the Ministry event, it really had made a very pleasant change, but she had to admit, although not out loud, putting on her little black dress and high heels tonight had given her much more of a thrill, all be it a nervous one. She a Muggle born, having dinner with one of the purist of purebloods, in one of the most notable addresses in the wizarding world, oddly thrilling but decidedly nerve-racking. 

“The Ministry certainly spared no expense for the event, and I have to concede I found it a rather enjoyable evening.  Shacklebolt seemed in very good form too, he is proving himself an excellent and more than capable Minister”.

Lucius drained the remainder of his wine from the thin bulbous goblet, a waiter appearing immediately to replenish it, the Dark Wizard waved his hand dismissively without even look in the poor man’s direction, decanting a further small amount of the blood coloured liquid into his own glass and topping up Hermione’s.

“Are you enjoying working for him?”

Slipped nicely and inconsequentially into the conversation, Hermione observed; save a brief mention of their previous meeting, Lucius hadn’t spoken of the Ministry, or her job at all, in fact, up until now conversation had been rather more of a personal nature, something which she had surprised her. As had her enjoyment of Lucius Malfoy’s company, which she found much less strained and awkward than she had anticipated.  His courteousness extended from his manners, into his conversation, it was almost impossible to equate the man she was having dinner with to the Death Eater she had once _known._ Was it really possible to say that Lucius Malfoy was the perfect gentleman, four words she would never have put together. But for any predispositions she might have of old, she certainly couldn’t deny that he was precisely that, perhaps overly so.  Hermione had a very good idea where this conversation was heading, she had no reason to be coy, she was more than happy to answer any of his questions and would allow Lucius play by his rules, she was after all the one with the _slightly_ hidden agenda, getting inside his head would be a lot easy if he didn’t know that was what she was trying to do. 

“To be perfectly honest, I have only seen him three times since I started, and one of those was here, and doing something I enjoy so much, I am really not sure I could call it work.” She threw a captivating smile at the clearly intrigued wizard.

“So I suppose technically my roundabout answer to your question is……yes I do enjoy working for him.”

“The perfect job, one might say”

Hermione found herself on the end of an equally disarming and quite genuine smile. Patience was not something she had accredited to Lucius Malfoy, but it appeared he certainly had more of it than she did, he was clearly in no hurry, allowing the conversation to develop and flow at its own pace, without any probing questions, and from that now rather familiar twinkle in his grey eyes, he was obviously enjoying the game of cat and mouse they seemed to have slipped into.  But for a particularly nasty experience with some polyjuice potion some years ago, Hermione liked to see herself as the cat, she had no intention of playing mouse to a more than panther like former Death Eater. 

“I think you could definitely call it that, and I suppose as I created it for myself, I really cannot complain in any way.”

She saw the curiosity grow in Lucius Malfoy’s face, he tried desperately not to furrow his brow or raise an eyebrow, but it seemed to rise of its own volition.

She put him out his misery, just a little bit, throwing him a few breadcrumbs that might encourage him to be equally forthcoming.

“Oh I am sorry Lucius that must sound awfully cryptic, I wasn’t trying to be, but well you were talking to Kingsley, I thought perhaps he might have mentioned something, I didn’t want to bore you and repeat what you already knew.”

“I don’t think Hermione, you are capable of being boring, but alas my dear, Kingsley and I spoke of far less interesting things than you.”

There was that small curve to his lips again, not quite a smile, certainly not a smirk, just enough to let her know he was enjoying himself.  Flattered once more, Hermione couldn’t resist picking up on his words.

“Merlin forbid I would hardly think me an interesting topic of conversation, especially compared to the Quidditch results or the rise in Gringott shares.”

“You do yourself a grave injustice Hermione, and I am a little offended that you would think me only capably of enjoying sports results or stocks and shares.”

Hermione didn’t see the remotest trace of any offence, but did notice her glass topped up just a little, once more.  The man was an exemplary wordsmith and she found herself relishing trying to keep up with him, comparable only to playing Wizard Chess with Ronald.

“Actually, without stereotyping you any further, I wouldn’t think sport was your thing, other than a little fencing perhaps, but definitely the stocks and shares.”

Lucius Malfoy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, but they still twinkled: “For someone who knows me so little Hermione, it would in fact appear, you know me quite, well.”

She flushed ever so slightly at his words and his salutation with his glass, relief ebbing through her veins as he changed the topic back to something less inflammatory.

“But we were talking about you, not me and your _perfect job”._ Lucius resisted the temptation to add something about that being in Muggle Relations, he wasn’t sure how any attempt at humour on his part would be construed.

Hermione pushed her chair back a little, elegantly crossing her long toned legs, removing the heavy cotton napkin from her lap, she placed it on the table, wondering just how much she wanted to tell a man she once hated.  

Yet another waiter appeared, this one replacing various pieces of cutlery and plates in readiness for dessert; amongst the items he left were some small delicate china cups, Hermione noticed Lucius straighten one in the saucer and was once again put in mind of Draco and of their recent conversations, or to be more precise, the one about moving on.

Hermione ran her forefinger around the thin rim of the wine glass, viewing Lucius from beneath her long dark lashes. He too had pushed his chair back and was waiting patiently for her to continue, his presence was overwhelming and she felt a little like she was sat in Dumbledore’s office, about to be admonished for something. The little devil was sitting on the edge of the table, tapping his fingers impatiently.

“Well the abridged version of the story is, I was going to work in the Muggle world. Quite frankly I’d had enough of the magical universe, after the war and Lord Voldemort.”

Hermione noticed a very small shift in Lucius Malfoy’s demeanour, his face tightening and his eyes darkening at the mention of the Dark Lord, she continued quickly.

“Kingsley Shacklebolt had tried many times to get me to work at the Ministry and each time I turned him down, in the end, quite simply he made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, to do the job I trained for in the Muggle world, here in _our world_. That’s it really.”

Lucius recovered much quicker from the mention of the Dark Lord’s name than he did from the revelation that Hermione Granger was prepared to give up the wizarding world, live her life as a Muggle and probably would have done so, without the intervention of the Minister of Magic.

“ _That’s….. it!”_

The incredulity in his voice was palpable.

“Well other than the fact I still have no clue as to what you trained for in the Muggle world and now do in our world, I am horrified that a young woman with your abilities would even think about leaving the magical world behind.”

He shook his head in astonishment, the action causing the soft lighting to catch his mane of long blonde hair, Hermione was inexplicably drawn to it, a sudden urge to reach out and see if it felt as silky as it looked raced through her.

“Another frightening legacy of….. of the Dark Lord. We should be grateful that the Minister convinced you otherwise.”

Hermione’s thoughts we immediately drawn back by his words. Like the incredulity, the little stutter as he spoke was not lost on Hermione, she noticed his voice become even more clipped as he spoke of his former leader, detecting a mix of hatred and fear in his aristocratic tones, and seeing that same paling of his already white skin, that she had perceived the last they had met. He recovered himself quickly and Hermione pretended not to notice, smiling at yet more complimentary words.

 “I too am grateful that the Minister convinced me otherwise, I am not sure I would have found my job so rewarding in the Muggle world or perhaps as interesting.”

For some reason Lucius found himself unable to ask the question directly.

“And what is it that you find so rewarding and interesting, especially in the places you have been.”

Hermione observed his avoidance of mentioning Azkaban by name and that he still did not ask outright what was it that she did. She wasn’t sure why, but she suddenly found the need to tread very softly and to choose her words with equal care, not as she had done before, when provoking a reaction from him. Lucius was not Draco, whilst what she did was not instantly recognisable in wizarding circles, she knew the older Malfoy would have a far greater understanding than his son as to what her work entailed, something told her a little more tact was needed.

“It’s the places that I have been that make it interesting. The reward comes from knowing that even in such places, I can help in some way, help with understanding and hopefully help those that need it find a way forward.”

For a moment Lucius Malfoy was at a total loss for words, his mind awash with a tsunami of thoughts and emotions, they flooded in one after the other, as he took in the slight frame of the young woman sitting in front of him. Simply but immaculately attired, in a dress that clung to her feminine curves and heels that accentuated those long legs. That wild brown hair of hers elegantly tethered in a loose chignon, she looked perfectly at home and well suited to her elegant sumptuous surroundings. It was hard to picture her in the bleak, darkness of Azkaban Prison…...

“What a beautiful ray of light you must be; you would have given me a way forward……”

The words were just meant to be thoughts in his head, but Lucius realised from the expression on her face, he had said them out loud, he didn’t seem to be able to help himself. To have seen this young woman, even for the briefest of moments whilst incarcerated in the godforsaken, desolate place would lift even the darkest of souls, including his; would have made it just a little bit bearable. He silently prayed that someone had told her that.

Hermione had hoped that her own openness with Lucius Malfoy, would encourage him to be the same with her, this wasn’t what she had expected, but then nothing this evening had been what she had expected. She was afraid to speak, as if by doing so it would break the odd connection they seemed to have made, she wished they were still sitting on the sofa in the bar, her hand itching to reach out and touch him.  She offered him a gentle, encouraging smile, still not want to speak and in all honesty was not sure if she could, finding her throat tight with raw emotion.

“What can I offer you for dessert?”

Clearly neither of them had seen or heard the arrival of the sweet trolley, the spell was broken instantly, although Hermione found her own still somewhat surprised, warm brown gaze being held by a rather sad, but genuine pale grey one, in that moment she realised that Draco Malfoy hadn’t been alluding to himself during their conversation but his father.

 


	20. Coffee, Croissants And More Gossip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So just how do you follow dinner with Lucius Malfoy........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks for comments and kudos, you are wonderful taking the time :-)

It was 3.30am. Hermione couldn’t sleep, her mind was spinning at a million miles an hour, she had been tossing and turning for over two hours, beating up her pillow every five minutes and trying to get comfortable. Each time she closed her eyes, the tall imposing figure of Lucius Malfoy loomed before her, she saw the twinkling in his mesmerising grey eyes, a twinkle that slowly faded and drifted into a limpid grey sadness. She heard his voice, those cut glass aristocratic tones, sparring sharply with her, before softening and all but purring in her ear; “Y _ou would have given me a way forward.”_

But what was really bothering her was not being able to decide which Lucius Malfoy was keeping her awake, the one which interested and to a degree concerned her professionally, or the one which fascinated and to a bigger degree intrigued her personally.

The untimely arrival of the dessert trolley, what was now the previous evening, had well and truly killed the moment, Hermione had almost seen the shutters come up in Lucius Malfoy’s handsome face. She had spent nigh on four hours looking at it, yes; it was a handsome face, he could have been the devil incarnate, and at one time he was, but there really was no getting away from the fact that Draco’s father was a very attractive man.  She might not know him very well, but she knew him well enough to know, there was no point in pushing him, or trying to recapture the moment, it had passed. Their conversation had once more returned to general topics, Draco amongst them and of course the merits of the mountain of sugary confectionery which had been presented to them.

It felt like she had been asleep for five minutes, her eyes grudgingly pried open, as she dragged her weary body from her bed, it was just after 9am, she remembered looking at her clock a little after five, it was definitely going to be a lazy morning curled up on the sofa.  Opening the curtains with a flick of her wand, brilliant watery sunshine flooded her flat, for the end of February is was a really beautiful morning, Hermione spent her weeks cooped up inside, it seemed a shame to do the same on such a glorious day. Perhaps she would get some fresh air, wander down to the coffee shop….. A sharp and excited rapping on her door curtailed any further contemplation of how she might spend her morning.

Ginny Weasley looked hatefully bright eyed and far too bushy tailed for the half asleep Hermione to contend with, she also looked as if she was fit to burst, her exuberance curbed by the sight of her bleary eyed friend.

“Hermione you look awful, are you sick?”

Hermione opened the door fully, allowing her friend into her flat.

“No, I am fine honestly, I couldn’t sleep and after the week I’ve had I could have done with a good night.”

“Well coffee and cake, is just what you need then, caffeine and a sugar rush, that will wake you up.”

Ginny all but bounced onto the sofa, she really was far too lively for Hermione this morning. Hermione wracked her brain, trying to remember if somewhere in her manic week she had arranged to meet her friend for shopping or something this morning.

“It’s really nice out, cold but nice, we could wander down to that little place along the road.”

Clearly she and Ginny hadn’t made any plans, her old friend was just up for a chat, or knowing her, more like a gossip. Hermione had known the youngest Weasley for far too long, she knew Ginny had something she wanted to share and there was no putting her off.  Well in all fairness, she had thought about heading out for coffee herself and Ginny was always fun, if sometimes exasperating company.

“Sounds great, just give me 10 minutes or so and I will be with you.”

Ginny was right; it was a lovely day, but it was very cold. The crisp February air waking Hermione up, better than her superfast shower. She was also right about the coffee and the cake, both hitting the spot as the girls sat in the front window of the nearby shop, Luis having served them both with hot latte’s and ridiculously large homemade croissants.  She still wasn’t entirely in the land of the wide awake, and compared to Ginny doubted she would ever catch up.

Hermione had taken all but one mouthful of her coffee and broken a small piece from her warm pastry….

“So have you heard about Lucius Malfoy?”

NOW she was most definitely awake, her mouth went dry and the small piece of pastry which had been on its way to her mouth found itself firmly back on the plate. Not wishing to appear overly interested, Hermione stirred her coffee with as much nonchalance as she could muster.

“Nope, but I am sure you are about to rectify that …”

Ginny leaned forward conspiratorially.

“I cannot believe you work at the Ministry and know nothing…...”

Despite being awake at the mention of Lucius Malfoy’s name, Hermione was still too sleep deprived to argue with Ginny, she might work at the Ministry but the fact she was hardly ever there meant she was rarely party to any of the current gossip doing the rounds; not that she was ever particularly interested anyway.  Hermione as usual waited patiently for her friend to continue, watching in amusement as the red head glanced around to see if anyone as listening.  This was a Muggle coffee shop, no one cared, let alone had ever heard of Lucius Malfoy. Suddenly it crossed her mind that it might be something awful and her patience vanished. 

“Oh for Merlin’s sake Ginny, I had less than three hours sleep last night, if you don’t tell me soon, I swear I am going to fall asleep in my coffee.”

Ginny looked a little irked at her friend’s impatience, but clearly the magnitude of what she was about to impart superseded that.

“Well I heard Dad telling Mum that he and Narcissa have parted, they aren’t together anymore.”

“I know what parted means” Hermione was once again treated to a more than annoyed look from the red head “Sorry Ginny, the lack of sleep is making me irritable.” 

Hermione was suddenly concerned by the timeline of the Malfoy split, trying to appear as uninterested as she could, she took a really unwanted bit of her croissant and popped it in her mouth: “So when did this happen?”

“Seems like a while ago, but it must have been after New Year though, because she was at the big party they threw at the Manor, there were pictures in the Daily Prophet society pages, she looked stunning.” 

Hermione did her best to stifle a yawn and took a sip of her steaming coffee: “I saw both Draco and Lucius ……Malfoy” She tagged the Malfoy on quickly, even after only one evening it was all too easy to think simply of Mister Malfoy as Lucius. The last thing she needed was any inquisition from Ginny, although she knew just from mentioning seeing them, and the look on her face, it was coming.

“WHAT!!!” She shrieked at Hermione, suddenly remembering where she was, she lowered her voice. When? You never said, Hermione!!!”

Oh why hadn’t she just kept quiet, three hours sleep really wasn’t conducive to the grilling she knew she was about to get from Ginny Weasley in a public coffee shop.

“It was a couple of weeks ago, I got dragged along to a Ministry bash by Kingsley Shacklebolt, it was all very last minute. I only went because I didn’t feel I could say no to him. Draco and his father were both there, it was no big deal.”

“NO BIG DEAL” Her voice rose and fell once more. “You have to be kidding! So I assume Mrs Malfoy, wasn’t with them?”

Hermione shook her head wearily, she really hadn’t given Narcissa Malfoy’s absence a thought, until now, and truthfully even now, she wasn’t actually that bothered. It might have been a glamourous evening, in a swanky location but, it was also business and in all honesty Hermione could understand her not wanting to attend.

“No it was just the two of them.”

“Did you speak to _them?”_

Hermione found herself a little annoyed at her friend’s inference, as if she was talking about a troll or something equally as unpleasant. She held on to her defensive tone, the third degree she was getting was bad enough, without Ginny reading anything else into it, although she was certain she wouldn’t escape totally unscathed.

“Only in passing, actually it was Draco who spoke to me. There really were so many people there it was just a cursory Hello, nothing more.”

Hermione omitted the part about the chat and champagne that really would open a very different can of worms, she could see Ginny was already about fit to burst.

“Did Draco look……...”

“Hot” Hermione supplied, watching her friends face colour sheepishly, this time she didn’t even have the excuse of too much alcohol. Caffeine and sugar didn’t have quite the same effect. Hermione found her patience wearing a little thin.

“Only in terms of temperature, it was very warm in the hotel and like I said there were lots of people there.  Should I mention your boyfriend Harry at this point?”

Ginny flushed a shade deeper, the red of her face, clashing violently with her hair. “A girl can appreciate a good looking guy…...”

Hermione had the feeling Ginny was going to say something a little crude, but due to her friend’s, lack of sleep and rather short fuse, clearly thought better of it, instead she turned her attention back to the older Malfoy. This in turn made Hermione squirm just a little bit, she didn’t want to lie to her friend, whom she loved dearly, but admitting she’d had dinner with Lucius Malfoy the previous evening and that he was the reason for her lack of sleep……. Merlin’s teeth! Even in her own head it sounded bad.

“What about _Mister Malfoy?”_

“Did he look hot?” Hermione supplied once more, trying to keep her tone sounding amused rather than acerbic or irritated, which was really how she felt.

Her remark was met with a sardonically raised, thinly plucked red eyebrow. She knew from a very long friendship that the only way to appease Ginny Weasley was to just go with it.

“You know Lucius Malfoy as well I do, impeccably well dressed, beneath all of those robes I am sure he was really hot.”

That really didn’t come out as Hermione had intended, her attempt at humorous sarcasm failing miserably with her lack of sleep, instead it came out sounding very suggestive, she flushed at her own words, earning her two raised eyebrows and some very girlish giggling from her friend. Impatience was turning to exasperation.

“Believe it or not they were both very polite, we exchanged half a dozen words, Hello, how are yous, that kind of thing. It was a very public Ministry event; what did you expect?

Ginny looked a little disappointed, Hermione wasn’t sure what she expected her to say, but clearly what she had, wasn’t it. She redhead went back to stirring her coffee and her own tale.

“Well, apparently, Mister Malfoy himself told Kingsley Shacklebolt, so it’s not just idle gossip, if that’s what you are thinking. The Minster told dad and well of course you know he and Mum don’t have any secrets.”

Ginny just happened to overhear and now here she was telling Hermione, who couldn’t help but wonder if Lucius Malfoy had intended for news of his separation to have become quite so public, so quickly, or leaving the marble halls of the ministry in quite such a way. The thought that he hadn’t, sent a shudder of fear through her, the wrath of Lucius Malfoy wasn’t something you wanted to incur under any circumstances.

“So I guess now it’s going to be common knowledge.” Hermione failed to hide the annoyance in her voice.

“Well he shouldn’t have told anyone if he didn’t want people to know, that’s how news gets around.”

She resisted the urge to retaliate with, _that’s how gossip get around,_ because as Ginny had pointed out it wasn’t actually gossip, and she really did not have the energy to debate semantics. Tiredness aside, she found herself feeling oddly defensive of the Malfoy’s, Hermione had never liked gossip, if even perhaps technically it wasn’t, but there was more to it than that. She needed to get home and get some sleep before she said something to Ginny she might regret, in more ways than one.

 


	21. A Second Unexpected Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would appear that Hermione is destined not to enjoy a nice quiet, peaceful Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so glad that you are all enjoying this and continue to find time for lovely comments and kudos :-)

 

Yet more rapping on the door, woke Hermione from the deep sleep she had fallen into on her sofa, for a moment she was a little disorientated and more than a little stiff, sleeping in the middle of the day wasn’t something she made a habit of. She certainly wasn’t expecting anyone; Ginny had left in a bit of a huff after Hermione had cut short their morning, so she was certain it wasn’t her. For the second time that day she somewhat sleepily answered her door.

“Draco!”

Hermione realised that she wasn’t actually awake at all, but was still asleep and having a very surreal dream, in no conscious reality would Draco Malfoy be knocking on her door, for starters, he didn’t know where she lived.

All dreams could be traced back to something in your subconscious, usually an event or a conversation that was playing on your mind before you fell asleep. Ginny of course surmised Hermione, Draco had come up in their conversation in the coffee shop, her friend still insisting the younger Malfoy was hot. Hermione needed to wake herself up, she didn’t like where this dream could be heading, the last thing she needed was erotic dreams about Draco Malfoy turning up at her flat and……….

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.” The young blonde shuffled awkwardly in the hallway. “Or turn up like this. I err……. are you ok you look a little err ….dozy?”

Merlin’s teeth, she was awake! Draco Malfoy _had_ knocked on her door and was in fact loitering uncomfortably in her hallway. She didn’t ask the obvious question of how he knew where she lived, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know, she was actually more concerned as to why he had turned up unexpectedly on her doorstep at all.

“You’re not. Honestly it’s fine, I didn’t sleep very well last night and I must have nodded off on the sofa. Please come in.” She stood back, gesturing for him to enter the flat.

A sudden rush of anxiety spread through her; was he hear to have a go at her about meeting his father? Hermione pushed that thought to the back of her mind, first and foremost she doubted Lucius had informed his son of his dinner plans, something told her they didn’t share that kind of relationship. Secondly his demeanour did not convey any anger or animosity, in fact the young wizard looked decidedly gloomy and more than a little anxious.

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure what to say to him; he looked even more uncomfortable standing in the middle of her small living space, his blue eyes fixed firmly on the rug, hands pushed deep in his pockets as he continued to shift awkwardly. Hermione wasn’t exactly best placed to put him at his ease, feeling a little edgy herself. She scooped up the throw that she had been sleeping under and offered him a seat, surprisingly Draco slipped off his coat and all but slumped onto the sofa.

“Can I get you a drink, tea, coffee or something else?”

Draco ran a hand through his blonde hair, he still kept it short, just as he had done at school but these days he sported a longer floppy fringe.

“Anything would be fine, whatever you are having.”

Right now a very large brandy seemed like a good idea, but instead she went into the kitchen and made tea, returning a few minutes later with two steaming mugs on a tray with milk and sugar. For the life of her she couldn’t remember how Draco had taken his when they had met at St Mungo’s, although from the look of him, however he normally took his tea, right now he needed it hot and sweet. She put the tray down on the small table, watching as he added both in abundance, stirring it continuously.

“Sorry Grainger for crashing your Saturday and for…”

“Draco honestly, it really is fine, surprising, but totally fine.”

The blonde shrugged his shoulders, a thin smile curving his lips momentarily: “Yeah I bet I was the last person you ever expected to see darkening your doorstep.”

“Well not exactly the last, but you probably were way up there.” She gave him a reassuring smile, noticing him relax visibly, although his face was still fraught, his blue eyes, like his father’s grey, tinged with sadness.

“I should be asking you if you are ok, turning up here, is not exactly…….” Hermione tried to find words that wouldn’t sound offensive. If something was troubling Draco, she didn’t want to upset him any further.

“Normal behaviour?” He supplied for her.

Hermione flushed, knowing she had used the phrase when they had been talking at St Mungo’s, Draco was a lot more intelligent than she gave him credit for.

“Well truthfully yes.” She really didn’t know what else to say to him.

Hermione sensed that Draco wanted to talk, she knew him a lot better than she knew his father, they had spent half their lives at war with each other, but to a degree she knew how far she could push the younger Malfoy.  He ran his long fingers once more through his hair, looking as if he were about to spring from the chair at any minute, instead he fell back almost resignedly against the array of cushions, staring at the ceiling.

“Granger I know this is going to sound really weird, I mean you and I, we have never been friends or anything.”

Well that was the understatement of the century, but Hermione refrained from commenting, she just let Draco talk.

“Well, the other day, for some reason, I kinda felt as if I _could_ talk to you. See I told you it was going to sound weird.”

Hermione made herself comfortable in the small armchair opposite Draco, her hands curled around her own mug, she had no idea where this had come from or where it was going. But if Draco Malfoy needed someone to talk to, then she was happy to listen, it was after all what she did, if nothing else she could be professional.

“It’s only _odd_ because it’s you and me, as you said we haven’t exactly been friends. But we agreed to move on didn’t we?”

Draco nodded his affirmation, taking an aimless sip of his tea.

 “I talk to people every day, it’s part of what I do, maybe that why you feel you can talk to me to.” She didn’t want him to feel as if she were treating him as a patient, but she could hardly base her comments on a friendship that didn’t exist.

“I don’t even know where to start, or even if I should.”

With his common reaction, Hermione began to slip easily into work mode, finding herself a little more comfortable in this decidedly strange situation.                                                                                                              

“Well that’s easy enough, what was it that made you come here, the reason, not the feeling that you could talk to me?”

“My father.” Draco responded without any hesitation or preamble.

Hermione tried to keep her own reactions in check and the incredulity out of her voice: “Your father made you come to see me?”

“No, I mean yes. I mean I am here because of him, not because he sent me. I am worried about him.”

Twice in one day, why did everyone suddenly want to talk to her about Lucius Malfoy?

 “There is an article in tomorrow’s Daily Prophet” Draco went on quickly.

“About him and my mother.” Draco shifted uneasily. “About them parting, that they aren’t together anymore.”

Unlike with Ginny, Hermione didn’t point out to Draco that she knew what parting meant.

 “I am worried how it will affect him, how he will react.”

However just as with Ginny, Hermione had to be very careful what she said. Much as she didn’t like the idea, she felt it would be easier if she did treat Draco as a patient, to view him as such would make asking him questions a lot simpler and feel a lot less personal. Well that was the theory anyway.

“In what way Draco? I don’t mean this to sound rude, but I am sure that your father is used to people saying derogatory things about him, and let’s face it the Daily Prophet is not known for its fact based reporting.”

“I know Granger and normally I would agree with you but…”

Draco ran both hands through his floppy hair, staring at the mug he had placed back on the table. His blue eyes finally came up to meet hers.

“The other day, when we were talking at St Mungo’s you said sometimes people do things which are out of character, not how they would normally behave. We laughed about my father singing in the shower.”

She couldn’t supress a smile at his choice of reminder: “I recall our conversation Draco.”

“You told me it could be a sign that maybe there was something wrong and that the person didn’t realise it.”

“I did, although people do out of character things for many reasons, not only because they are ill in some way.”

“Yeah, like me sitting here talking to you about my father.”

Hermione found her smile broadening at his analogy: “Exactly, before I …”

She was about to say before she met Lucius, curbing her admission quickly, she had assumed that it was Draco who had a problem.  Last night after she’d left his father, Hermione had wondered if maybe she’d been imaging things, but Draco Malfoy sitting in her flat, drinking tea and talking to her on a Saturday morning, certainly gave her own concerns more foundation.

“Before I would have thought that impossible.”

Draco’s smile vanished quickly, his blue eyes clouding with anxiety.

“It’s been going on for a while, just little things. I guess, I didn’t notice at first, my father and I were never really, I mean we didn’t spend a lot of time together, that I would notice, but I think my mother did. I think she tried to help him but…..” Draco’s voice faltered slightly at the mention of his mother.

“He wouldn’t let her?” Hermione asked gently trying to help him along, but not probing too deeply.

“To be honest Granger I truly have no idea. Neither of them will talk about the other one or what happened. Why my mother just suddenly up and left on New Year’s morning, I just know what I see myself now.”

Hermione understood that when a couple split up they didn’t always want to talk about it, she had been the same, but little over a year with Ronald Weasley was nothing compared to what she knew to be over 20 years of marriage. 

“And what do you see Draco?” It was always easier to deal in facts, than hearsay. She could see that Draco was torn, was he doing the right thing talking to her.

“Oh I don’t know, Maybe I am just imaging things Granger, perhaps my father has always been like this, I was just never close enough to see it, or maybe it’s because my mother left that he is like he is. I really have no idea.”

 Draco’s thin fingers once more found their way into his blonde hair, this time in frustration, as if he wanted to tear it out.

“That could all be perfectly true Draco, I spent two minutes talking to your father, so I am hardly qualified to make that judgement either.” She felt oddly ashamed lying to Draco, but right at this moment, no good would come from telling him anything more, especially not that she had a feeling he was right to be concerned.

“But something is telling you, things are not as they should be, your concern does you credit. You are his son after all Draco, there is a bond, a connection which is telling you there could be a problem.”

“My father would never admit that there was anything wrong, especially something, I don’t know what…. with his head, his mind. Can you imagine?”

Honestly Hermione rather wouldn’t, but in order to help in any way, if she could, she had to.  She watched the tense Draco, wondering where on earth to start, needing to find little common but unrelated ground.

“I went back to Hogwarts just before Christmas, to do my N.E.W.Ts.” Hermione couldn’t help but notice the look of confusion that crossed her visitor’s face, but she carried on.

“I was really struggling with Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts, they were never my favourite subjects, but I hadn’t any problems with them before. One day I realised why, it was because of Professor Snape.”

A look of consternation drifted across Draco’s face, at the mention of his former Head of House.

“To put it simply Draco, I hadn’t processed what had happened to him or allowed myself to grieve in any way, so it was affecting my abilities elsewhere. Does that make sense?”

“I think so.”

Hermione saw a slow understanding replace the consternation.  “You are saying that my father may not have processed everything that has happened to him so it’s affecting him somewhere else?”

“That’s exactly what I am saying. It might be something as simple as just talking to someone, like you are talking to me about you concerns. Is sharing them making you feel better?

Hermione could see the blatant surprise in Draco’s face: “Actually, yes it is.”

“There you are then; it really can be that simple. The hard part comes sometimes trying to get a person to talk. For many reasons people don’t want share how they feel, or the awful things that have happened to them, that they have seen, and more often than not they do not realise, it is not talking about them or sharing them that is causing a problem.  They don’t even think they have a problem or if they do, will often not be prepared to admit it.”

“You might have only met my father briefly but you have known of him for years, known what he has done, what he is capable of.  Can you see him talking about any of that, to anyone?”

Hermione knew Draco was right; the heinous nature of the things Lucius Malfoy had done and more than likely seen, would prevent him from talking to anyone about that.  The man had also spent time in Azkaban, when Dementors patrolled the prison, he had more than likely suffered his own share of torture.  Lucius Malfoy certainly did not strike her as a man who would want to sit down and talk about his experiences with his wife or a close friend, it simply wasn’t done. However, she seriously doubted Narcissa Malfoy was the kind of woman who would openly encourage him to do so, in the same way that she seriously doubted, Lucius Malfoy had a close friend of any kind to talk to.

“Would you talk to him?” Draco asked.

Hermione wasn’t sure how to interpret Draco’s sudden question. Was it a request or a statement, looking deep into his almost pleading blue eyes, Hermione realised it was a request, Draco Malfoy wanted her to talk to his father, was he serious?

“Please Granger! At the Ministry party the other week, I don’t know, he seemed…… he seemed to genuinely enjoy talking to you. He was different somehow.”

“Draco, it was two minutes of polite party conversation…. we…...”

“You mentioned Azkaban, normally he would have gone off at the deep end.  I know there were people around, but you know that much about my father, he wouldn’t have cared about that. He said it would be nice to talk to you again and well….”

Hermione had wanted to talk to Lucius Malfoy, it had been her aim all along, the reason why she had accepted the man’s dinner invitation for Salazar’s sake, but Draco was moving the Quidditch posts considerably here.

“Draco it was polite, idle conversation; I am sure I am the last person your father wants to talk to about anything, in any way.”

“Please Granger, what do you have to lose? It’s like you said it’s what you do and I have no one else I can ask, please?”

Suddenly Hermione wished she was dreaming.


	22. A Second Unexpected Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Hermione's Saturday continues........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks etc for your lovely comments and Kudos, you are wonderful taking the time

 

After Draco had left, Hermione practically dived back onto her sofa, wishing she had never left it, actually wishing she had never got out of bed this morning at all. She tried to clear her head of everything, had it really only been 24 hours since that owl had arrived from Lucius Malfoy? She must have dozed off again thinking about it.

A sharp tapping on the window this time woke Hermione from her sleep, tangled in the throw she struggled to get up, the tapping became more impatient, as she finally managed to get to her feet she recognised Lucius Malfoy’s regal owl rapping its sharp beak against the glass. Hermione was beginning to feel she were in a cross between A Christmas Carol and a Muggle farce.

Opening the window, the disdainful looking bird flew in, the writing on the note and the embossed seal all too familiar. As she took it from its razor sharp clutches, Hermione felt as apprehensive about its content as she had about finding Draco Malfoy standing on her doorstep, taking a knife from the drawer she sliced it open.

_My Dear Hermione_

_I trust you slept well._

Hermione was almost tempted to throw the note down after the first few words, they seemed to mock her mercilessly.

_Firstly, let me thank you for a lovely and most entertaining evening. I hope that you enjoyed yourself as much as I did?_

_Secondly, I have a confession to make, I really should not have indulged in that last Brandy. I found myself being very lazy and a tad decadent, deciding not to travel home to Wiltshire but to remain in London overnight. Thus I find myself still here and was wondering if you might like to indulge in a late lunch with me, if of course you have no other plans, and could tolerate my company further._

As always it was signed simply, Sincerely Lucius Malfoy.

It had been difficult enough to contend with Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy on three hours’ sleep, could she really even contemplate meeting the dark wizard, especially in view of her conversation she’d had with his son, then again maybe it was a good thing, whilst she still had the courage to do so. The disdainful owl viewed her ominously from the table, Hermione was convinced it tapped its clawed foot in impatience.

_Dear Lucius_

_How nice it was to receive your owl, thank you notes are unfortunately a thing of a bygone era but are so charming and most welcome._

_How very naughty of you staying in town, but I am sure it was the right thing to do, and hopefully you stayed somewhere nice._

Hermione as always pandered to his ego, knowing her words and value of his good manners would be appreciated, she also injected a little girlish humour, she had noticed the previous evening he seemed to enjoy that. She found herself wondering for a moment if he perhaps had a home in London, but felt sure he would have mentioned something to that effect. 

_I would be delighted to join you for a late lunch, and as you said to me yesterday, you do yourself a grave injustice. Hopefully you will not think me rude if I say, I was surprised just how much I enjoyed your company, and I can assure you there was no tolerance involved._

She read her note over, it was a little flowery perhaps, but it was also honest, and she wanted to ensure that she maintained that honesty with him. Hermione glanced at the clock at was almost 1.30, it wouldn’t take her long to get ready. She would enlist the aid of a few charms to sort out her hair, which at the present looked as if she had stuck her finger into a power socket, other than that she only really needed to shower and change. She knew Lucius would not have time to owl her back, so she took the lead.

_I will meet you in the foyer of the Aurelia Imperial at 2.30 and we can go on somewhere from there, hopefully that is alright with you._

Instead of finishing her note as she had done before, Hermione went with a little informality.

_See you soon, Hermione_.

She sent the impatient and disdainful looking owl promptly back to its master.

Whilst in the shower, Hermione came to a decision; the previous evening, she and Lucius had been in a very smart hotel restaurant, somewhere she considered very much his domain, today she would take him somewhere she knew, somewhere she considered her territory. As she recalled there was a very nice little Italian around the corner from the hotel, it was Saturday, it was kind of an odd time, late for lunch, early for dinner, so it should be relatively quiet, hopefully Lucius would like it.

Deciding what to wear had proved a much more difficult decision to make, normally she would have put on a decent pair of jeans, but however casual the restaurant, she was meeting Lucius Malfoy, she doubted he would approve of such attire and knowing him he would be in his usual elegant robes. 

Pleasantly surprised didn’t really cover how she felt, when she spotted him much more casually dressed, as he waited for her in the chic foyer. Catching sight of her own reflection in one of the highly polished mirrors, Hermione immediately closed her mouth and hoped her flushed face would subside before he saw her.

Lucius Malfoy found himself eagerly anticipating the arrival of Hermione Granger as he paced the foyer of the hotel, just as before, he had been sure she would decline his invitation or would have other plans, one evening of his company would have been quite enough. Finding she would be with him in less than an hour had thrown the usually composed wizard into a small state of panic.

After his delightful evening he really had been in no mood to travel back to Wiltshire and spend the weekend rattling around in the Manor, alone. His son was spending the weekend in town with friends of his own, so Lucius had checked himself into the Aurelia Imperial, finding he had slept better and for longer than he had done in many a night. He had been in no hurry to leave or to even get up for that matter, enjoying the sumptuousness of the linen and rather modern bed his room afforded. It was a complete contrast to the Manor and its bright contemporary feel seemed to rub off on him.   It was only when Paladin returned with Hermione’s reply that he showed any inclination to rise from his bed at all, all be it rather quickly. He still managed to find himself in the foyer a full 10 minutes early and not wishing to look like he was loitering, went to reception and extended his stay for another night.

Hermione Granger had looked stunning the previous evening, elegant, poised and very beautiful. Today she looked equally as beautiful but in a very different way, Lucius found himself savouring every detail. She was dressed casually in a rather short black and white check skirt with very thick black tights, her flat suede boots, came to her knees and her black fitted jacket accentuated her exquisitely feminine figure. Today her hair cascaded softly about her shoulders, sitting on a pale blue scarf that was secured about her neck. Lucius suddenly became acutely aware of just how young she was, and just how intrigued he was with her.  He watched almost transfixed as she strode purposely across the lobby towards him.

Hermione had gotten over her initial shock of seeing Lucius Malfoy attired so casually, _just._ He’d had his back to her when she entered, his even present cane was out of her line or vision, and had it not been for that signature mane of platinum blonde hair, which in a reversal of the previous evening, today he wore tethered with a strand of black ribbon, she might not have realised it was him.

“Lucius, I hope I haven’t keep you waiting, again.”

She smiled apologetically at him, although she was fully aware she wasn’t late. His almost lazy smile, along with his casual appearance was incredibly disconcerting.

“Not at all my dear, again, it was I who was early, I had something to speak to reception about and was uncertain as to how long it would take.”

“You stayed here!” Of course why wouldn’t he, it was convenient and he could afford it, Hermione couldn’t help the little spark of curiosity which ignited with her, wondering what it was like to stay in a place like this, wondering what his room was like……she curtailed her thoughts, feeling heat once more sting her cheeks.

“I did, so in answer to your question earlier, Yes I did find somewhere very nice to stay, I have also been how was it you put it, naughty and have checked myself in for another night. I have nothing to return to the manor for.”

Hermione was caught off guard, she had been told twice today that Lucius and Narcissa had parted, were not together anymore! But what did she say to him, how did she react? To all intense and purposes, she had accepted both of his invitations from a very much married man, what exactly did that make her?

Ironically it was Lucius who perhaps, inadvertently came to her rescue.

“I am aware that Kingsley Shacklebolt told Arthur Weasley about my separation, I know you are very close to the Weasley’s, so I assume that you too had heard.”

She noticed the concern which flickered across his face, those pale grey eyes of his studying her carefully.

“As a married man Hermione I would have been more reserved in my invitations.  I know we only had dinner, are having lunch, but I know how these things can be misconstrued and how people like to gossip.  I would not have dreamed of putting my family or you in such an untenable or awkward position.”

Whilst helping her out of one situation, Hermione found herself pushed headlong into another. It felt a lot safer having dinner with the very much married Lucius Malfoy, than it did having dinner and now lunch with the separated one. It also made her response all the more difficult…..despite her conversation with Draco or perhaps because of it, the little devil was back, maybe he wasn’t so much of a little devil, more of a sharp reminder. Hermione decided to stick with her honesty and forthrightness when it came to Lucius Malfoy.

“Hmm, I would be lying Lucius if I said I hadn’t heard something to that effect.” That was true, she just didn’t tell him when she had heard.

“Like you, I would have been a little more reticent about accepting your invitation had I not known.” This also was true, she had only accepted, having convinced herself it was work, so having dinner with him was acceptable. What wasn’t acceptable were the thoughts that she had had about him, before she knew he and Narcissa had parted, she quickly discarded those thoughts as they were irrelevant now. 

“Well I am very happy that you have accepted both of my invitations, although I have to confess today I feel somewhat of a fraud.”

Hermione looked questioningly at him, as they both still stood in the middle of the lobby.

“I have invited you to have lunch with me, but I have no clue, other than remaining here, where to take you.”

Lucius again coming to rescue, this time wondering how she was going to broach the subject of the little Italian around the corner.

“AAH well, if you would allow me, perhaps I could take you to lunch, I actually know a rather nice little place just around the corner. Well that is if you like Italian food.”

It was very difficult to associate the happy, smiling and affable man she left the hotel with, with the man Draco was so concerned about, but already in their brief meeting today, she had seen something reflected in his pale grey eyes that told her his son was right. Whether she had the skill to get him to open up to her or whether he wanted to, would remain to be seen.


	23. New Experiences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think we can safely say that Hermione's Saturday is on the up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a little thank you for lovely comments I received I decided to post another chapter for you to hopefully enjoy

 

Like Luis’s coffee shop, the Italian restaurant around the corner from the Hotel was in fact not part of Wizard London, Hermione didn’t know if Lucius Malfoy had ever ventured into Muggle London, but she was about to find out. Turning the corner as they left the hotel, Hermione caught Lucius’ arm and carefully guided him between a row of six trees, immediately bringing them out on to a slightly busier thoroughfare, fortunately in what he might consider an acceptable part of town.

“Do you mind?” She asked glancing up at him.

“You grabbing my arm and dragging me behind a tree or having lunch in what I assume is going to be a Muggle establishment.?”

Hermione immediately released him taking a small step away, it had been an all too easy stance to fall into.

“At my age it is nice to know I can still have new experiences.”

The little devil reared his head in earnest once more, if Hermione was going to get Lucius Malfoy to talk to her, to open up to her in anyway, he had to feel comfortable with her, oddly, she had felt more than comfortable holding his arm, so slipped her slender hand back in its crook.

“I guess then, at _your age_.” He had started with the age thing, and Hermione found it fun to continue to tease him.

She certainly didn’t think of him as old, older of course, but he looked ten years younger than what she surmised him to actually be. She and the little devil, found it very hard to believe that he would consider himself so old or that Lucius Malfoy had never been dragged behind a tree before, but fortunately the words remained unspoken.

“Even though you have your cane, I should help you along.” She tightened her grip and guided him down the road.

“So in your such _advanced years_ , which of the aforementioned is a new experience.”

 “Honestly?”

“Always.” Hermione replied quickly, steering him towards a small bow fronted shop, just off the main road.

“All of them.” He clearly noted the surprise on Hermione’s face: “Well you have never been on my arm before.”

Hermione saw his ever watchful gaze drift to where her gloved fingers gripped his sleeve, this time she made no attempt to withdraw her hand or move away.

“I have never been dragged quite so deftly between any trees before and I have certainly never eaten lunch or any other kind of meal in a Muggle restaurant before.”

Hermione was secretly rather pleased with all of the new experiences she had inflicted on the dark wizard, even if they were hardly earth shattering.

“It’s no different to a wizard place really.” She opened the door to the small Trattoria, preceding Lucius in. “Except of course the plates tend to be placed in front of you, rather than magically float there.”

“Really, how novel.” Ever the feisty wordsmith, Lucius was there with the sarcastically amused rejoinder, his grey eyes twinkling devilishly.

Just as Hermione had assumed, at this in between time of day, the place was very quiet, there was only one other couple, who Hermione could see were just enjoying their dessert and an elderly woman in the corner, who was obviously a regular. One waiter took their coats whilst another showed them to a table, perceptibly the prime spot in the front window; the day had remained as it had begun, and gentle sunlight drifted though the panelled windows and onto the classic red and white gingham tablecloth. Everything about the quaint little place, really was very stereotypical, and when Lucius suggested that, as the eatery had been her choice, she should choose the wine, she just couldn’t resist the Chianti which came in a traditional straw basket.  The wine as it happened was excellent and Hermione found herself flushing yet again with Lucius’ more than complimentary words.

“I have to commend you on your choice Hermione, the food here is quite delicious and for such a small wine list, this really is excellent.” He raised his glass to his lips once more.

Hermione breathed an inward sigh of relief, she had eaten here many times, and just as her companion had said both the food and the wine were excellent, up until now however, her fellow diners had not been used to the much finer things in life.

Giovanni’s wine list boasted one laminated page, a nice selection, but nothing compared to the leather bound volume supplied at the Aurelia Imperial, and their sweet menu consisted of half a dozen very traditional Italian desserts, not the towering selections offered by the swanky hotel. Hermione was however more than happy as amongst the small selection was her favourite, which she promptly ordered as usual.

Unlike the previous evening, their conversation was not interrupted by supposedly unobtrusive wait staff, and Lucius was delighted to find that if he wanted something, he simply caught the attention of one of the staff, who were just as attentive and equally as diligent.

“There is much to be said for Muggle service, having your every need pre-empted or pandered to immediately can be a little irritating, especially when you are in the middle of a conversation.”

It wasn’t the first comparison the two of them had made to the previous evening, they had even touched on some of the same conversation, but it was the first time any reference had been made to that particular point in the evening.

“Complimentary as you were Lucius, I am sure it was a timely interruption.” 

Hermione recalled Draco’s words from earlier about his father not going off at the deep end, when she had mentioned Azkaban, she didn’t want to spoil a perfectly lovely afternoon, but she needed to test the water and there was only one way to do it. She hoped he would take the bait.

“A timely interruption? How so?” For a moment lines of worry creased his skin. “Perhaps I had embarrassed you, Hermione that wasn’t….”

“I know that wasn’t your intention and you didn’t.”

The tables in the cosy little restaurant were much smaller than those in the hotel dining room, theirs had been discreetly cleared, leaving only their wine glasses, Lucius’ long slender fingers were resting on the base of his. Without a thought Hermione touched her fingers to his, smiling gently and reassuring him; his concern that he had in some way offended her, made her feel bad at what she was about to do, or rather say.

“I meant timely because we were talking about Azkaban, and it was thoughtless of me to mention it.”

Hermione studied Lucius Malfoy’s reaction as carefully as she could without him feeling under any real scrutiny.  Just as before she saw the visible paling of his already white skin, his nostrils flared and that tiny indiscernible sheen of sweat appeared once more on his brow. She recalled the last time she had mentioned the prison; his fingers had curled tightly around his cane. His cane this time, was safely propped against the window, one of his hands was still resting beneath her own on the table, the other was in his lap, she noticed his fingers clench tightly around the red napkin that sat there. But just as before his voice did not change, there wasn’t the remotest glimpse of temper, nor was there any biting retort. The napkin aside he displayed an odd calmness, she followed his line of vision, noticing his eyes had turned a stormy shade of grey, much darker than they usually were, as they rested upon her hand. Hermione realised it was a form of detachment, focussing firmly on something else, it was quite possibly even a form of occlumency, whereas he was not shielding his mind and thoughts from another but from himself, or at least parts of it.

“As I recall, we did not actually mention it.”

Those mesmerising eyes were once more fixed upon her, returned to their usual shade of silver grey, it was Hermione who found her own gaze drifting down to where her hand still lightly covered his, his thumb now gently brushing against it as he spoke.

“No, no we didn’t.” Hermione tried to keep her mind on the conversation, the innocuous little action, playing havoc with just about every sensibility she possessed, to remove her hand would seem both infantile and churlish, not that she even wanted to.

Hermione decided to take a different track with the dark wizard, one which could prove even more dangerous for her than simply getting inside his head, or encouraging him to talk.

“It was alluded to, especially when you said, I must have been a ray of light and would have given you a way forward…….I”

“No Hermione.” His voice was firm, but velvety soft, his hand turned slowly beneath hers, encircling it in the soft warmth of his own. “What I said was you must have been a _beautiful_ ray of light.”

Hermione felt heat suffuse her face once more, this time at his contradiction. The previous evening, Hermione had found her body invaded by a similar warm sensation, starting in the tips of her toes, colouring her face and meeting somewhere in the middle, today it started in the tips of her fingers, where their hands lightly met, today it burned somewhere in the middle with much more ferocity.  

She toyed with taking the conversation back to safer ground, but found herself unable to, wading in yet deeper.

“How would I have given you a way forward Lucius?” The question might have sounded like professional curiosity, but it was asked from a very personal perspective, something in Hermione, wanted his response to be just as personal.

She felt his fingers move imperceptibly against her own, he didn’t attempt to tighten his grip and she made no move to withdrawn them; across the small table, deep, probing brown, once more, met strangely uncertain, bright pale grey. His voice was quiet, dangerously so, his cultured articulate tones drifting softly to her ear.

“Azkaban, is a dark desolate place, capable of destroying even the strongest souls.”

Lucius didn’t break their gazes as he continued to speak, but for the first time, Hermione felt his fingers tighten around her own.

“As I am sure an intelligent gir….woman like yourself has figured out, I am not a _strong soul.”_ He paused briefly and Hermione noticed him take a slow steadying breath.

_“_ Every day finding the strength to get through that day becomes harder and harder. You know that all tomorrow will ever bring, at the very best is more, gloomy desolation, and a never ending darkness that eats slowly away at you. Knowing that at some point, however long you may have to wait, that a man would see something so beautiful, so fresh and so alive would give you a reason to live to see another day.”

Hermione was completely stunned by his words, feeling hot tears prick her eyes, she fought desperately to contain them, if Lucius Malfoy never said another word to her, she felt sure she would never forget these heartfelt ones he had spoken today.

He was of course right to a point; she had never thought him to be the strongest of souls, weakness amongst other things, allowing him to be so easily lead by the Dark Lord, to do his bidding; but whether he believed it of himself or not, he’d had eventually found the strength of character to walk away for the sake of his family. He had also survived the time he had spent in Azkaban, from the pain he tried so desperately to conceal in those eyes, which now seemed to flutter from palest grey to limpid blue, Hermione knew he had not escaped totally unscathed.

She had heard some dreadful stories from both the current inhabitants of Azkaban, and the patients in St Mungo’s, she had listened to each one with compassion and understanding, but always with professional objectivity.  She was astonished with her own compassion and understanding for this man, she had after all witnessed the brutal cruelty he was capable of, first hand, but no matter how hard she tried, Hermione was finding it impossible to apply any of that professional objectivity to Lucius Malfoy, feeling an odd inexplicable connection to the Dark Wizard, which overrode any detachment, professional or otherwise.

Lucius Malfoy still held her gaze, even if she wanted to look away, she couldn’t. Lucius Malfoy still held her hand, even if she wanted to pull it away, she couldn’t, there was that same inexplicable connection which held them together.

That this man, of all people, had chosen to speak so openly to her, despite everything, sent a very un-objective single tear spilling onto her cheek. With their eyes still firmly locked Hermione, didn’t notice the hand which rose to brush it away, the unexpectedness of his touch causing her to flinch, she did however notice how quickly his eyes darkened, as did his tone.

“Do you find my touch so repulsive Hermione?”

Whilst struggling with her professional objectivity, she certainly didn’t struggle with her professional composure. His touch had simply been unanticipated, it had caught her unawares yes, but she remained unfazed by it.  Glancing down briefly at where their hands were still joined; repulsion was certainly not something she was feeling, far from it, his gentle touch, stirring some rather more basic feelings in the young witch, these too were unanticipated and caught her very unawares, but still she remained unfazed.

Raising her warm brown eyes once more to capture his stormy grey, she spoke with quiet surety.

“Lucius I am not repulsed by your touch.” As if to reinforce her point, Hermione gently stroked the inside of his wrist with her thumb.

“I was just a little surprised by it.” She gave him a gentle smile.  “And even more by my own reaction to it.”

Hermione was a little shocked by her own rather blatant admission and saw it reflected in Lucius’ eyes, seeing them shift once more to that strange limpid blue grey colour, lit with that curious uncertainty, she never would have imagined seeing in this man, it gave her an odd sense of control.

“I would be lying if I didn’t admit that you scare me, but not as you once did. You scare me now for very different reasons.”

Watching as the uncertainty in his face gave way to suspicion, moving quickly to disbelief, she stopped herself, this was dangerous ground she was treading, already having said more than she had intended, Hermione felt she had perhaps gone a little too far with her candidness.

“Lucius you had the good grace and I might add, courage, to be honest with me, I am merely returning that honesty.”

Despite his astonishment at her own earnest words Lucius couldn’t withhold the derisive laughter which escaped his lips, a derision that was directed at himself.

“Thank you my dear, grace is something I have never lacked, but courage of any sort is something you can never accredit to me.”

It was Lucius who wanted to pull his hand away, feeling unworthy of her words and suddenly of her company, but he found the tables as it were, strangely turned. His large hand almost powerless in her small delicate one, he looked from the pale fingers, now encasing his, to her beautiful intelligent face. Just when had Hermione Granger become such a strong, beautiful and intelligent young woman.  The disturbing thought, that this had always been the case, hit the dark wizard like a bludger in full flight.

Hermione didn’t want to harp upon the sins of the past, Lucius Malfoy needed no reminders of his, finding some of her professional training creeping back, Hermione mixed it with a little flattery, honest flattery.

“Courage takes many forms Lucius. Perhaps a man of your standing and ancestry will find this difficult to accept, but being able to talk freely and openly to another person, takes its own kind of courage.”

Again Hermione could not miss the derisive sneer which curled Lucius’ lip: “Not the sort of courage my father would have commended or held in any regard, or anyone for that matter who came in his wake.”

Hermione knew to whom he alluded, but she never allowed her patients to put themselves down in any way, that lack of clear professional objectivity was not going to allow that to happen with Lucius.

“I come in their wake, and I commend your courage Lucius, I also find myself holding you in a regard, admittedly I would not have imagined possible.”

This time it was Hermione who spoke from the heart, this time there was no pandering or flattery involved, nor was she prompted by his son’s pleading concern, she simply spoke with utter sincerity and hoped upon hope that he knew that. The emotion filling those beautiful pale grey eyes of his, telling her, he was more than aware.

 

That inexplicable connection and the eye contact between the young witch and the former Death Eater was finally broken when a waiter appeared at their table, asking if he could get them anything else. A clearly polite way of inquiring if they required their bill and would be leaving any time soon.  Hermione realised that they had been there for some considerable time, and cocooned in their own little world of conversation, had been oblivious to how busy it had become, moving into the early evening rush, the staff were obviously eager to get their prime table back.  The waiter had looked distinctly relieved when Hermione had told him no and just asked for the bill, which Lucius had promptly tried to commandeer when he returned. Even without the aid of magic, Hermione was quicker, an action which earned her extremely annoyed look from her companion.

“I think not.” He said his voice menacingly low.

“Oh I think so”. Hermione replied, her voice equally quiet and just as threatening.

Lucius Malfoy was old school, and clearly a gentleman to the last, he had invited her to lunch, there was no way he was going to allow her to pay. There was of course a very small snag, the Muggle establishment charged in pounds and pence, not in galleons and sickles, and Gringotts certainly didn’t issue credit cards and if they did she very much doubted they would be accepted in Giovanni’s. It was explaining this to her companion with some amusement, that a very reluctant Lucius Malfoy allowed himself to be treated to lunch by Hermione Granger. This really was proving to be a day of new experiences and it wasn’t over yet.


	24. Cause & Effect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So lunch is finally over.......Hermione and Lucius stroll back in the direction of the hotel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks as always for kudos and comments, and for you taking the time to read and review

 

The bright sunny day had turned in to a clear, very cold evening, and Hermione shivered visibly as they left the warmth of the small restaurant. Snuggling into her scarf and pulling her coat tighter around herself, she took her gloves from the pockets and slipped them on, about to bury her hands deep into the same pockets, she found an arm offered to her. 

Whilst she had playfully taken Lucius’ arm en route to Giovanni’s, she had felt a little more reticent about doing so on their return to wizard London, his male pride had already suffered the indignity of being brought lunch by a woman and in a Muggle establishment, she didn’t want to compound it even further, by seeming to take liberties.  She however happily accepted his offer, slipping her small gloved hand once more into the crook of his arm, and moving a little closer into the warmth of his large masculine frame, enjoying the now all too familiar sensation which invaded her body when they touched or his scent assailed her senses.

A smile lifted her lips as his cane clicked against the paving stones, like the man himself, once upon a time the sound would have filled her with fear and a sense of foreboding, but now, well she certainly couldn’t use either of those adjectives to describe how she felt at this moment, as she walked, perhaps rather too closely alongside Lucius Malfoy.

They strolled the unfortunately, rather short distance, in a companionable silence, slipping through the row of trees, back into wizard London and in the direction of the hotel, a couple of times Hermione thought Lucius was about to speak but he said nothing, not that was until they reached the elegant revolving doors of the Aurelia Imperial. Even on a dark street, lit only by the candles from the hotel entrance, Hermione detected a glimmer of hesitation in his eyes.

“Nightcap?”

Was all he said in those clipped aristocratic tones of his, Hermione simply nodded, preceding him through the doors.

The hotel was exceedingly busy as they weaved their way across the marble foyer, people checking in, generally milling around and chatting; the opulent bar fared little better, all the stools were occupied as were the comfortable sofas they had sat in the previous evening, there was clearly a party or an event of some sort going on and this was definitely not the place for a quiet drink.

Disappointment seeped, unbridled into Lucius Malfoy’s veins, ridiculously it had taken him the entire length of the walk back to the hotel to suggest something to prolong their evening. He wasn’t sure if he could even find anything else to say, all he knew was he didn’t want the day to end, he didn’t want to relinquish Hermione’s company any time soon, but that seemed thwarted now.

Hermione, screwed up her cold nose; when Lucius had suggested a nightcap, even at this early hour, she had envisaged a repeat of the previous evening, only not having to move from one of those lovely, deep leather sofa’s for dinner. Perhaps rather fancifully, in her head she had imaged them sitting close, and continuing their conversation. Remembering how she had placed her hand on Lucius’ leg as they had talked, and the little frisson of heat that had bubbled low in her belly. Looking around, they would be lucky to make themselves heard, no matter how close they were sitting, that of course was if they were able to get a seat.

“I assume wizard hotel rooms come with a chair and some sort of mini bar.” Hermione bit the inside of her lip, immediately hitting the raw spot from last night and once again drawing blood.

Had she really just suggested to Lucius Malfoy that they go to his hotel room? If he was shocked in any way by her suggestion, he certainly didn’t show it, perhaps his mind just wasn’t thinking along the same lines as hers. Hermione’s chilled face, warmed with embarrassment and she shuffled more than a little uncomfortably at his side.

“ _My suite_ , comes with both and a sofa.” He offered, gesturing towards the lift.

The idea that they share a nightcap in his room had occurred to him, could he really say that being a gentleman had prevented him from suggesting it? No he couldn’t. Fear had prevented him from that, not that he could show or admit that to Hermione in any way, and for that he hated himself just a little bit more. He had really liked the fact that, up until this moment, he had been himself with her, no pretence or front.

 As Lucius unwarded his room, Hermione sensed there was something wrong, she had noticed the uncertainty in his eyes earlier, and if she wasn’t very much mistaken, as they entered the sumptuous room, it had now crept into his body, but he was doing his best to conceal it. She silently chided herself, what an idiot she was; she had been nervous about taking his arm in the street for fear of him feeling she was taking liberties, and yet had shown no compunction in suggesting that they go to his room, all be it only for a drink.

Hermione touched Lucius’ arm to offer an apology for putting him on the spot, quite possibly making him feel obliged and uncomfortable. There was no hiding his recoil as her now, bare fingers curled around the top of his arm, her warm brown eyes shot to his, seeing something unexpected flicker in their depths. The apology she had been about to make died on her parted lips.

The little devil was fanning the flames of more than just the usual spark which ignited in the young witch when it came to Lucius Malfoy.

“Do you find my touch so repulsive Lucius?”

Her warm brown eyes held his thunderous grey with the same surety with which she has spoken earlier, although the path she was treading now was much more precarious and ambiguous. Even with his dark magical powers she was far safer with Lucius Malfoy in a public restaurant than alone in his hotel room.  The unexpected flicker she had seen previously in his eyes resurfaced with full force, replacing any uncertainty and quashing the surprise at her words.

“Hermione I am _far_ from repulsed by your touch.”

Just as she had done in the restaurant, to reinforce her point, his hand drifted slowly to her arm, mirroring her action, his strong fingers gentling curling around the top of Hermione’s arm, pale against the darkness of the coat she still wore, he squeezed lightly as his quiet aristocratic tones, once more filled the air.

“I was just a little surprised by it.” Using the same words, she had done, he gave her the same gentle, all be it slightly more nervous smile. “And even more by my own reaction to it.”

His body’s reactions to Hermione, or to be more accurate the thought of Hermione, had surprised Lucius for many reasons, but how quickly he had actually reacted to her, and how powerfully, scared him.  Last evening the merest of touches to his leg, had quickly stirred an almost painful reaction, which he had fought desperately to suppress, today at lunch, just holding his hand had made his body throb mercilessly. Lucius had always had discipline over his body, something he had honed to the very limits in Azkaban, he’d had to; not wishing to lower himself to anything else. But Hermione’s gentle, nonsexual touches transcended any discipline he had over his own flesh.  However, her words at lunch, about her own reactions had given him cause to wonder. It was that cause to wonder that provoked his reactions now, both verbally and physically, alone in a hotel room, what man wouldn’t? But fear and uncertainty still haunted the dark wizard, this was after all, Hermione Granger.

Hermione had been shocked by her own blatant admission, to hear the words on Lucius Malfoy’s lips, didn’t shock or even alarm her as perhaps they should, they excited her. Seeing that same curious uncertainty flicker in those mesmerising grey blue eyes of his, gave a sudden resurgence to that odd sense of control she had felt earlier. He did still scare her, but as she had told him, for very different reasons now. She hadn’t elaborated, because if the truth be told she wasn’t entirely sure what those reasons were; as his touch all but seared through the fabric of her coat and arousal fired her blood, Hermione knew exactly what those reasons were, confirming that Lucius Malfoy was still an extremely dangerous man.

“How do I make you react Lucius?”

The words were out before she had time to censor them or think about their implications, moving closer into the dark wizard’s personal space, she soaked up the sheer power of his presence, revelling in the scent which invaded and overwhelmed her senses.

Lucius had hated himself moments before, for not remaining himself with her, for once more retreating behind the façade he wore all too easily.

“Quickly and more powerfully that I should.” He wasn’t going to hide, not with her, being himself, being honest, felt too good.

“Does that scare you Lucius?”

Hermione found her professional training creeping in; she wanted to understand the uncertainty that lurked in those grey depths, but she all but held her breath, as she felt his fingers release her arm, had she pushed him too far? She let out the slow breath as he gently unwound the scarf from around her neck and loosened the belt on her coat.

“Yes it does.” The malice in his tone was directed at the fear.

“Fear is not an emotion I like, or find myself on good terms with, especially when I do not know if I am scared for myself or for you.”

Hermione’s heart was beating so fast and so loudly she thought it would drown out her words. Hearing the most formidable of wizards speak in this way was an odd sensation to say the very least. That Lucius Malfoy felt any kind of fear was a strangely erotic notion, the idea that he feared in some way for her only seemed to heighten her own excitement. The little devil was back and he was doing cartwheels.

“Lucius, you of all people should know I do not scare easily.”

Hermione was in complete control of the situation, how far she could push it and how far she could allow it to go, but she was also very well aware that, no one fully controlled Lucius Malfoy, not even the Dark Lord had managed that entirely. She had instigated a little harmless flirtation in order for him to feel more at ease, playing to his weaknesses, any man’s weaknesses, simply to get him to open up, but this was a very different line she was crossing. Every professional bone in her body screamed at her not to go down this road, especially armed with so little information and knowing that all was not as it should be. The problem was, every female, bone, sinew and fibre was screaming so much louder.

“Why would you be scared for me; of what you might do?”

“Yes” His voice was hoarse. “I do not want to hurt you in _any_ way” In almost a hushed whisper he added. “It has been a long time…since…since I …..”

Hermione placed her forefinger to his lips, his candour raising a rush of understanding in Hermione, a rush she found turning quickly to keen arousal. Her voice as she spoke was as hushed as his had been.

“Lucius do you trust what I might do to you?”

He arched a brow, but slowly nodded his head, this was definitely another first for Lucius Malfoy.

 

Hermione smiled, slipping off her coat and scarf, a brief incantation sent them floating across the room and neatly deposited on the back of a chair. She moved behind Lucius, sliding the jacket he wore from his shoulders, it met with a similar fate to her own. Before returning to stand once more before him, Hermione tugged on the thin wisp of black ribbon which tethered his mane of blonde hair, it fell loosely about his shoulders and face, and Hermione wound a mellifluous strand around her finger.

“I’ve wanted to do this since I was 12 years old.” She allowed the silky lock to fall back into place before once more being drawn to its pale golden length.

“Why?” Lucius couldn’t help but ask the simple question, intrigued that she had thought about him at all, in any way.

She continued to twist the long lustrous strand around her finger as she spoke.

“Childlike curiosity I suppose. My hair was such an unruly mass of wild curls; I was fascinated at how sleek yours was, I was so envious, it was another reason I disliked you so much.” She wrinkled her nose, accentuating her childish reminiscences, noticing some of the tension leave Lucius’ body as she did so.

Her thumb joined her forefinger, running the soft strand between them: “I always wondered if it was really as silky as it looked and despite what I thought about you then, I always just wanted to reach out and stroke it.”

“And what is the verdict.” He couldn’t contain his own curiosity and he didn’t miss the use of the word, then……even this innocent little action had Lucius’ heart racing like a teenager, he was totally captivated, the light tugging motion, seeming to go directly from the top of his skull to all manner of sensitive places.

“I am still envious. The silly thing is….”

Hermione stopped, realising that what she was about to say could bring back painful memories.

“No, it’s silly, it doesn’t matter.”

“No please…….tell me.” Lucius tried to keep his focus, watching her intently, whilst savouring the gently erotic pull on his hair.

The strand of hair slipped from between her thumb and forefinger, and Hermione wound it around her little finger, immersed solely in the action as she spoke.

 “Of all the things that happened on that last day at Hogwarts, of all the wretchedness I had witnessed, I remember seeing you, and I remember your hair, it was lifeless, unclean and had lost all of its shine, in some bizarre way it seemed to sum up so much about that day.”

She returned her full attention to Lucius; “I told you it was silly.”

He said nothing.  Hermione noticed a faraway look in his eyes, releasing the strand of hair, she touched her hand gently to his face, allowing it to travel along his jawline and slowly to his neck, where his shirt was open, revealing a spattering of dark blonde hair, she touched her fingers lightly to it. With a sharp intake of breath, those beautiful eyes of his once more fell fixedly upon her.  His hand coming to grasp her wrist tightly, the fingers all but biting into her flesh.

“I warned you, how you make me react.”

An unrelenting heat coursed through Hermione’s body, both with the harsh contact and the passion in his voice, but she remained unperturbed.  “Quickly and powerfully.” She supplied calmly.

Right now the burning heat in her lower body would have been more than satisfied with quickly and powerfully, but this wasn’t about her and she wasn’t entirely sure that was what he really wanted or what he needed, when a bottle had been shaken, you needed to release the top very slowly.

“And you also said that you trusted what I might do to you……..”

Lucius was finding that well-disciplined body of his hard to control, other than the last two disastrous encounters with Narcissa, he couldn’t remember the last time they had been intimate. Despite the powerful arousal he now felt, another kind of fear began to seep into his veins, he no longer knew what his body was capable of and it was a humiliation he didn’t want to suffer, but how would he know otherwise?

He still held her wrist, but loosely now, beneath his fingers he noticed an angry red mark, he had hurt her already, ashamed and realising this was what _he_ was capable of Lucius Malfoy took a step back.


	25. A Taste For Lucius Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could possibly be subtitled patience rewarded....especially after my nasty little cliffhanger. I really hope that you enjoy it, this is where the Explicit rating starts in earnest...........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for your continued support with this story and for taking the time to read, comment and leave kudo

 

Hermione instinctively knew why he had moved away from her, following his line of vision she also saw the angry red marks which appeared beneath his fingers. But he hadn’t released her hand, instead his thumb softly caressed the enflamed skin. She quirked an eyebrow, still waiting for an answer to her question.

“I do” He said once more in those hushed tones. “But……...”

 “But what?” She asked not waiting for a reply, but again closing the small amount of space between them, her body brushing oh so lightly against his, feeling the full impact of the _power_ he had mentioned.

Hermione raised the hand he still clasped loosely, slowly moving it back to the point where he had captured it, if he wanted to stop her, he could.  Her small fingers once more trailed through the spattering of dark blond hair just below the column of his throat, her thumb brushed cautiously over the first button on his shirt, before releasing it from its hole. His long fingers remained lightly manacled around her wrist, still he didn’t release it, nor did he attempt to stop her. She moved slowly and deliberately down to the next one, taking his hand with her. With the same slowness and careful deliberation, she slipped another small button from its fastening, exposing a little more of his pale skin, she could feel his heart beating rapidly beneath her tentative touch, then even faster beneath her lips.  His fingers again tightened around her wrist and Hermione’s big brown eyes yet again locked with his; that fascinating shade of grey blue, watching them come closer as his mouth came to cover hers in a firm but unexpectedly tender kiss.

Pulling back suddenly he watched her flushed face closely. The silence stretched on, as for a few moments they simply stared at each other. He didn’t want her to stop, but that same crippling fear prevented him telling her so.

Both hands now free, Hermione returned them to his chest. His eyes fluttering shut, allowing him to simply feel her soft lips as they brushed the corner of his mouth, before slowly moving along the strong line of his jaw, dropping to his neck and along his throat, languorously they teased him with such excruciating precision, every nerve in his body was alive, more alive than he had been in years, perhaps than he had ever been.  He wanted to feel her soft mouth all over his body and found himself groaning at the mere thought, was this what she had meant by what she might do to him?

Lucius Malfoy had never allowed a woman to do this, to take the initiative, to take the lead, that was a man’s place, his place, he simply derived his own pleasure from it, there was a time and a place for ……. but as Hermione’s lips moved slowly over his upper body and his shirt fell discarded to the ground, he knew that was about to change and he was utterly powerless to stop it, not that he even wanted to. That she would want to do this, fired a desire in the dark wizard he had long since forgotten existed or that he was even capable of. The sense of urgency he had felt was steadily giving way to something else……pure unadulterated pleasure, it gradually seeped into his body, quelling his fears and allowing him to merely enjoy the sensations being lavished upon him.

Hermione allowed instinct to gradually guide her, responding to the sounds of pleasure that emanated from him and the desires that drove her own body. She didn’t want to appear nervous or inexperienced to a man like Lucius Malfoy, nor did she want him thinking she was some kind of slut.  She’d had one lover in her life and their physical relationship had been very simple, very _normal._ This was hardly the time or the place to experiment was it?

As her mouth brushed lightly over a hardened male nipple and a hissed breath escaped from between Lucius’ lips, it occurred to Hermione that, whilst he might worry about his own reactions to her, their ideas of simple and normal might differ greatly. He had said he trusted her, even as her own body practically screamed out with pleasure, she couldn’t help but wonder what the “but” actually was?

Hermione had never been in control sexually; although secretly it was something she had often craved, the idea beyond erotic and firing many a fantasy. Ronald Weasley could be a little slow sometimes, dense even one might say, but not when it came to sex; he had always picked up on Hermione’s signals and as Hermione had referred to it, had quickly taken charge of the situation.  Finding herself in control now was one thing, finding herself in control of Lucius Malfoy pushed the realms of any erotic fantasy.

Hermione was pulled suddenly and forcibly into his full embrace, his incredibly hard, semi naked body flush against her, every nerve in her body shot into overdrive. Lucius took full advantage of her mouth which opened in a small gasp of surprise. His kiss just as before, was fierce yet tender, but so much deeper this time, devouring her lips and plunging his tongue into the warm wetness beyond, as he gently explored. Hermione responded with the same ferocity and tenderness, her lips moving gently beneath his, her tongue plunging and snaking inside his mouth as they duelled in and slow sensual dance, her fingers weaving their way into his silky mane of hair. His hands roved gently, almost hesitantly, over her back, across the gentle swell of her arse, it was as if he was encouraging her to move against him, encouraging her to take control; she did so with a measured sensuality that his hands provoked, her body rubbing against his straining erection. Hermione felt him thrust forward in response, but still sensed he was holding back. Lucius groaned into her mouth as her tongue slid along his own, circling it with the suggestion of so much more. 

She slid her hand between them, once more allowing it to drift slowly over his bare chest, loving how his muscles flinched and trembled as her hands moved lightly over them. She paused, their mouths finally parting as her hand moved lower, their eyes were locked once more, the tension palpable, as it stretched the small distance between them, smouldering and humming in the air.  Hermione’s fingers ghosted over the taught material of his immaculately tailored trousers and the tension snapped. For Lucius it shattered in the form of a deeply exhaled moan that filled the silent room, that and the look of pure lust that filled his grey eyes was Hermione’s breaking point.

Her actions whilst still unhurried became far more assured, she no longer waited for his guidance or his sanction, she no longer feared what the “but” was, in fact she thrilled at what it might be, and she certainly no longer worried about how quickly and powerfully he reacted to her. Hermione found herself wanting to enjoy that power first hand.  But as she continued to trace the outline of his clearly aroused flesh, Hermione realised that it wasn’t actually her hands she wanted to use on the dark wizard.

Brushing her mouth over his deliciously masculine chest, feeling his male nipple peak beneath her lips had, quite literally given the young witch a taste for Lucius Malfoy, and she wanted to taste more of him, she wanted to taste all of him.

 It was an act she had always avoided, the mere thought of it decidedly distasteful, Hermione now found her own need both bizarre and overwhelming. The ever present voice of reason and logic in Hermione, told her, overwhelming need aside, it had a lot to do with visual aesthetics and perspective. She might well be taking the lead, in control even, and have Lucius Malfoy’s aroused flesh in her mouth, but she would still on her knees before a very powerful and very dangerous dark wizard.

For a very fleeting moment she once more contemplated the wisdom of the line she was about to cross, both personally and professionally. Draco flashed across her thoughts, his request for help; she was certain this wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he asked her to speak to his father. In the dark recesses of her own mind she knew his son had foundation for his worries, but whatever she did now wouldn’t prevent her from helping Lucius, sometimes people needed a physical release to aid a mental one, she reassured herself with those facts at least. The fleeting moment of doubt passed as she palmed his sheathed flesh, through the constricting material she felt its burning heat throb against her hand, a low guttural moan escaped Lucius as her touch became firmer.

Hermione was acutely aware of the fact they were still standing in the middle of his hotel suite, having made no attempt to move anywhere which could be considered more comfortable or appropriate. A brief incantation bathed the room in a dim intimate glow, the same incendio brought the cleverly integral fire roaring to life. Whilst another naughty wandless spell divested the dark wizard of his remaining clothes, leaving him completely naked, highly aroused and quite literally in Hermione’s hands.

None of this seemed to shock or trouble him in the slightest, which considering the body he possessed was hardly surprising. Hermione on the other hand, found the breath ripped from her body, a fresh rush of arousal dampening her already wet knickers. An expanse of incredibly well-toned alabaster skin stretched before her, Merlin’s teeth the man was gorgeous, something Hermione didn’t realise she had uttered out loud.

Lucius felt an unexpected flush creep across his skin, thankfully the dim light and glow from the fire hid it, her unashamed appraisal he could cope with, even enjoy; such breathy tones of exclamation were not something Lucius was used to hearing. Just as the hot wet tongue that licked the head of his cock was not something he was used to feeling, he practically hissed with pleasure at the completely alien but blissfully erotic sensation, his hand flying to hair to hold her there for fear she might stop.

His physical relationship with his wife had been perfectly satisfying but had never ventured outside of the realms of straightforward sex or modest touching, it simply wasn’t what Narcissa had done, and he had for his part as a gentleman, had not demanded or encouraged her to do otherwise.  

Nothing could have prepared him for the pleasure that surged through his already highly sensitised body as her wicked mouth laved every solid inch of him, he shuddered. To his horror his body thrust uncontrollably forward, deeper into the moist cavern, but instead of pulling away, she sucked him in further, her cheeks tight against his not inconsiderable length. The blood pulsing rapidly around his already throbbing body, as she willingly licked and lapped at him, drawing back to tease the swollen tip and taste the small dewy bead which spewed from the tip. Everything was so incredibly intimate, yet so remarkably easy; that little voice of doubt still gnawing at his brain couldn’t help but wonder why.

“Merlin he tasted good.” Her mouth thankfully, too busy to utter these words aloud.

Hermione continued her ministrations, savouring the feel of him and how he responded to her, relishing the taste of his silky hard flesh as it filled her mouth, unable to believe her own excitement as she continued with her task.

His hands hand wound their way into her hair, moving as her head bobbed along his length. Totally inexperienced at this, Hermione feared she would not be able to accommodate him, but she had found him slipping easily between her lips, relaxing with her own gratification and enjoyment Hermione could take almost his entire length, an extremely erotic notion in itself. Any qualms that she would not be able to please him, allayed by his tightening fingers, shallow breathing and the array of throaty moans, which filled the air and heightened her own desire.

Through his pleasure induced haze Lucius wondered how he had denied himself this particular pleasure for so long, her mouth was torturously divine, evoking sensations he had never felt before. She was doing things to him that no one had ever done before, and in more than just a physical way, he pushed aside those nagging deeper questions like, how could this be? Not wanting to detract from his blissful enjoyment.  She seemed to have no regard for her own gratification and for that Lucius felt just a little bit guilty, a soft sensual hand drifting up his leg to caress the underside of his cock as it slipped tantalisingly from her mouth, selfishly banished his concern for her.

“MMMmmmmm” Slipped loudly from his lips, he was unable to utter a coherent word as her fingers curled around his balls. What was this witch doing to him, what was he allowing her to do to him?  He knew what would happen if she carried on like this.

Hermione felt the full force of Lucius Malfoy’s potent arousal as he thrust forward into her mouth, she all but gagged, but with now, what was becoming practised ease, managed to control him, the well gauged pressure of her mouth, shielding her teeth with her lips and holding him fast. She felt his solid flesh ripple beneath her and her own body quivered in response, he hadn’t touched her, but her nipples peaked and ached against the flimsy material of her bra and her core was tingling wet against her panties, just knowing what she was doing to him, could do to him, was as arousing as if he had plunged deep inside her.

Her tongue returned to circle the head of his hard flesh, the heady taste of him was so ridiculously erotic, and she dragged her mouth once more along his glorious cock, pulling and sucking him towards a peak she instinctively knew was only moments away, the thought exciting her beyond all reason. Hermione felt his body begin to quiver, the muscles in his legs tightened, his thrusts forward became more erratic and forceful, again she controlled him with her mouth, using her hands to steady his actions.

Hermione almost felt as if he were going to pull away, the gentlemanly thing to do perhaps. Maybe so but she wasn’t allowing it, she had wanted to taste Lucius Malfoy, all of him. She sucked him hard, her mouth pulling his silky throbbing shaft deeper into the wet warmth of her mouth, her tongue flicked around him, massaging and enticing.

Lucius was beyond rational thought, way beyond anything except that inexorable pleasure that was engulfing his body.

His seed burst hard and fast into her mouth, all the while she continued to lick and suck at his pulsating flesh, still he came, hot and thick it spilled onto her tongue. Hermione was a little unprepared, the heat, the taste, and the sheer volume, but she found pure ecstasy taking over, savouring his body’s uninhibited response to her and milking it, the groan of fulfilment that she had induced bringing a tiny smile to an already very happy mouth.

 

  


	26. A Line Crossed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Hermione has acquired a dangerous taste for Lucius Malfoy, where will she go from there...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are all so lovely with your kudos and words of encouragement for which I thank you all.

 

 

Whatever the visual aesthetics or perspective was, Hermione had felt decidedly self-conscious and more than a little uncomfortable at Lucius Malfoy’s feet, his powerful, naked, spent body before her, looming above her like some avenging God.  She felt no such awkwardness, as he had pulled her up, holding her hard against that powerful naked body, savouring the feel of it, even through the confines of her own clothing. His mouth devouring hers in a deep, passionate kiss. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if he could taste his own pleasure on her lips, the notion exciting her.

She had felt no such discomfiture as he had taken her by the hand and lead her into the bedroom. Unlike her, without the aid of any magic had, and with a slow revelatory appreciation had almost wondrously removed every last piece of the clothing she wore. There had been no slow intense foreplay, no intimate lingering touches, as her clothing had found its way onto the floor, it was a simple task which needed to be done, and whilst done with exquisite and at times erotic precision, it had been no more than that.

Neither of them spoke, save the sound of their breathing the room was shrouded in an expectant silence. Every inch of Hermione was cloaked in the same expectancy, as that powerful naked body, now covered hers, pressing her down into the luxurious cool cotton bedding, no longer sated, and feeling incredibly hard and extremely aroused against her own. 

Desire flooded Hermione, as she arched into him, finally relishing the feel of her own skin against his. A soft moan escaped her lips as his hands roamed over the parts which were not flush against his own. She responded almost wantonly to his touch, a touch which drifted from gentle and almost tentative, to harsh and urgent, the contrast between the two, arousing sensations in Hermione she had never felt before, this man evoking feelings and needs she had never experienced before.

But even as her body all but screamed out for him, a little frisson of fear trickled into her veins.  This was another line she was crossing; one she could not go back from, one that would change everything.  Hermione felt the throbbing heat of Lucius Malfoy’s potent arousal pressing urgently against her, heating her to the very core, and any doubts or fears she had, dissolved in a blur of all consuming need. Instinctively she shifted beneath his weight, his strong muscled thighs spreading her legs with ease, she hooked them around his, opening herself up to him.

His eyes were the colour of molten steel, they burnt momentarily into her dark honeyed brown, shining with intent, before his mouth swooped down, his lips almost crushing hers as his tongue pushed fervently inside her mouth, twisting and twinning with her own in an exchange fuelled by pure lust and need, it was a heady combination. One which drove Hermione to extremes she had never enjoyed before. She was almost suffocated by his mouth, and his hair falling around her, engulfing her in his intoxicating scent, the last vestiges of air eradicated, as he plunged himself forcefully inside her. His tongue mirroring the deep thrusts of his hips, Hermione swallowed hard, trying not to gasp for air.

Slick with her own arousal, and not entirely inexperienced, did Hermione for one moment consider that there would be any pain, but there was, it seared through her body with a blistering hot agony, that caused her to cry out against his marauding mouth, her nails practically clawed into the strong white flesh of his shoulders, clutching him to her in an effort to mollify his movements. For the briefest of moments, he stilled and Hermione caught her breath, allowing her body to adjust to his size and his fervour.  Relaxing into the pleasure and beauty of his intrusion, opening up fully to him and allowing him to bury himself to the hilt, filling and stretching her like she had never been before. 

His mouth left hers, trailing a path of burning heat along her neck and her shoulder, he sucked and nipped hard on her tender flesh, his strong fingers tight around her arms, biting into her flesh as he pounded into her. This was a very different kind of sexual pain, one that Hermione had never been subjected to before, but one she found incredibly erotic, her walls tightening in unbridled pleasure around him as he slid back and forth in her feminine heat. Hermione’s legs gradually raised, wrapping themselves around Lucius lower back, her hips lifting to meet him thrust, for powerful thrust.

That this was Lucius Malfoy assailing her with so much pent up desire, evoking so much pleasure and buried so deeply inside her, was almost impossible to comprehend, but as the sound of him almost growling in ecstasy filled her ears, comprehension didn’t matter, nothing that wasn’t connected to sensation mattered.  

Hermione inhaled deeply savouring the scent of him, those delicious dark spicy tones now mingling with the pungent overpowering smell of sex.  The man brutalised every single sense she possessed with a luscious abandon that Hermione found impossible to resist. But even in the throes of such unrestrained passion, his hidden darkness was evident, she could feel it.  It reminded her who this man was, what he had once been, an odd sadistic excitement boiled in her blood.

After his earlier admission to Hermione, that it had been _some while_ , his stamina and self-control was impressive, but then he had already enjoyed a powerful orgasm. The fact that he had recovered so quickly and so forcibly from that, had also surprised the young witch, a man half his age would be have been only to pleased to have appreciated such a speedy recovery. 

Whilst not enjoying what could be termed _usual_ foreplay with Lucius, Hermione had become incredibly aroused fellating him, now his unyielding, unremitting rhythm was fast pushing her to the point of no return. Her walls fluttered about his sheathed flesh, constricting and releasing as her juices flooded around him, her breathing became more shallow and she fought against the unrelenting pleasure that began to slowly seep into her body. He thrusted sharply in response, her body dragging his along with her, sucking him deeper in, now wanting him to move faster, harder, but something prevented her from telling him, a little voice in the back of Hermione Granger’s head told her that Lucius Malfoy would not appreciate being told to “fuck me harder”.

Everything around Lucius tightened, with excruciating sensory delight. Her arms about his upper body, her slim fingers sinking into his damp, sweaty flesh, her long never ending legs about his lower back, wound about him like devil’s snare and those secret inner muscles, that gripped his shaft with a blissful need that he had never felt in his entire life.

He tried desperately to control his own body, which was fast spiralling out of control, instead he found himself pushing harder and faster into the small frame pinned beneath him, deeply fused within her.  Without a word it seemed to demand more and more from him and take everything he was prepared to give. Lucius had never been prepared to give that much of himself to anyone, not even during sex, that inbred reserve was maintained at all times, he certainly didn’t do spontaneous or find himself out of control, not until now that was.

Her walls tightened still further around him, glorying in every solid, hard inch of him. Hermione could feel every delicious stroke, virtually as if she were touching him, he withdrew almost too far, before hammering into her once more, it was gloriously too much, lifting her up so fast, stretching and filling her to the hilt, pushing her of off that already fast crumbling precipice. She might have been able to restrain herself at the use of course instructions, but his name along with a cry of uninhibited passion, fell loudly from her lips, her head thrashing about wildly in the soft cotton behind her.

Never had Lucius heard such profoundly erotic sounds, his own name amongst them, his senses were being overwhelmed from every conceivable angle and from within. A rasping groan which he tried so hard to supress fell from his own lips, in an effort to quieten any further unseemly outpourings he buried his head once more against her soft shoulder, biting down hard. The action caused Hermione’s body to thrust sharply upwards bringing harshly against his own. Finally, he lost total and absolute control, his entire body drowning in a sea of glittering ecstasy. Lucius body throbbed mercilessly and he felt himself spill into her, a hot, shuddering climax filling and coating her deep inside, just when he thought it might end, he felt her own release still fluttering about him, teasing him caressing him and once again he shot into her.

Through his exhausted but satiated, delirium Lucius Malfoy felt, his damp hair being gently smoothed, pushed back from his flushed face, he could feel his own body slipping from hers, and yet she was still tightly wrapped around him, how could she, why would she……he should move, somewhere he could hear her indulgent voice, he could feel her breasts beneath him, soft against his chest, as they rose and fell rhythmically. Lucius could not recall the last time he felt such utter peace.


	27. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is ..... and the following morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heartfelt thanks for kudos and comments you are all too kind

 

Hermione’s eyes fluttered slowly open, to complete confusion, the linen beneath her skin, soft and expensive, but totally alien to her. The bed was much bigger than hers, and she stretched languorously, suddenly wondering if there was any part of her that did not feel like she had been trampled by a troll.

A vixen like smile lifted her lips, as recollection flooded her brain, and heat raced through her pleasantly aching, and decidedly sore body.  She shifted tentatively, but there was no solid mass next to her to worry about disturbing, there was no contented breathing rising and falling in sleep, and there was no platinum blonde hair splayed haphazardly across a pillow. A bitter wave of disappointment joined the heat coursing through her body, had she really expected to wake up in the warmth of Lucius Malfoy’s embrace?

She stretched once more, her body protesting at the action, it was light but only just, some more wintry sunshine streamed through the large floor to ceiling windows, as Hermione struggled to sit up, clasping the cool cotton sheet to herself, she looked, still a little sleepily around the room. A breakfast tray sat on a table at the foot of the enormous bed, it was laden with all manner of delicious looking morsels and Hermione’s stomach grumbled in appreciation.  She noticed her clothes, discarded from the previous evening were neatly folded, resting on a nearby chair, and despite the absence of her companion, she really didn’t feel inclined to put them on just yet, tugging at the sheet, she wrapped herself in it like some Grecian goddess, and went to investigate.

Amidst an array of tempting pastries, fruits and cereals, not to mention steaming pots of tea and coffee, was the Sunday edition of the Daily Prophet, ignoring the scandalous rag Hermione, picked up one of the steaming pots and made to pour herself a cup of tea. She turned one of the delicate bone china cups; reminded immediately of Draco, she couldn’t help but smile……

“Draco, oh crap, the Daily Prophet” She muttered under her breath, returning the heavy silver pot to the tray, she flipped over the paper, her heart sank like a stone. 

The entire front page of the broadsheet, was dominated by various images of Lucius Malfoy, amidst the headline emblazoned in the familiar large black font, Lucius Malfoy Splits from Wife, His Evil Secrets Revealed, alongside it the name Rita Skeeter; that hateful woman, did she never give up? Hermione’s eyes darted over the first paragraph: _Former Death Eater and resident of Azkaban Prison has spilt from his wife of more than 20 years, the Prophet can exclusively reveal. Narcissa Malfoy, formerly Black, left her husband at the beginning of the year, following a string of beatings and affairs after his release from the notorious prison …………._

Tears welled in Hermione’s eyes as she took in the picture of Lucius in Azkaban, on his knees he was dressed in dirty prison clothes, chained and tethered. Sunlight streamed through a tiny window behind him, highlighting the fear on Lucius’ handsome face, and the haunted terror in in pale grey eyes. Hermione had been to that prison, quite possibly been in that very cell, she would be back there tomorrow, but she couldn’t even begin to imagine how Lucius had felt. For the first time she really dreaded the thought of returning, feeling sick to her stomach.  The headline continued to scream at her, she turned the paper over and flung it back down on the table, Draco’s words resonating in her ears. “I don’t know how my father will react.” She recalled the dread in the younger Malfoy’s face and the unabashed worry in his voice.

Hermione heard movement in the next room, she wasn’t sure if Lucius had seen the article, but if he had, she realised she was probably about to see Draco’s father’s reaction first hand.  Still wrapped only in the white cotton sheet, she padded quietly across the thick plush carpet and into the adjoining room.

Lucius Malfoy was fully dressed in his immaculately tailored robes, dark and sleek, he was back to his usual pristine self, not a hair out of place. That signature mane of white gold hair fell lustrously, and perfectly groomed about his broad shoulders, glistening in the early morning sunlight.

He leaned on his cane; his long fingers wrapped tightly beneath the shining serpent head.  Her eyes were drawn to the thumb which idly circled the back of his other hand, the nail scrapping almost savagely against the pale skin, small welts were raised against his flesh, a speck of bright red blood stark against its paleness.   He continued to stare sightlessly out of the window. Raising her eyes to his handsome, but harsh features, Hermione could see, even from her poor vantage point and at this angle, his face was steeped in silent, brooding in anger, a bitter sadness clouding his eyes. He had seen the article; this wasn’t the way she had hoped this day would start.

“Lucius” Her voice was quiet and laced with concern as she entered the room fully.

She noticed him square his shoulders, his back ramrod straight as he continued to gaze out of the long window. Hermione moved closer to the dark wizard, the sheet trailing behind her like some elegant evening gown. Entering his perimeter, her nostrils were invaded by, not the familiar scent of him but of the bitter scent of alcohol, a glass tumbler sat empty on the table next to him. So early in the morning it turned her stomach, it lurching still further at how he must have felt, to need Firewhiskey for breakfast. Her mind raced, uncertain of how to approach the situation, more uncertain of how to approach him. The line she had crossed with Lucius Malfoy, clearly affecting how she would normally deal with someone in this position.  

The woman who had willingly given herself to this man, wanted to rush across the room, wrap her arms around him and tell him, it was all going to be alright, that no one would believe such rubbish. The woman who had enjoyed his body, pleasured him, wanted to walk across the room, wrap her arms around him and seduce him all over again, take him back to bed and make him forget about all of the hateful things that Rita Skeeter had written.

The professional woman, who had been asked to talk to this man, knew from his demeanour, either one of those things would quite probably just enflame an already volatile situation. The professional woman who had been asked to help this man, knew from the look that clouded his handsome features, she had to put on her kid gloves and handle this, handle him very carefully.

She couldn’t be under any illusions that a couple of meals, some pretty intense conversation and some even more intense sexual contact meant she knew or understood Lucius Malfoy in anyway. She knew him a little better than she had, and of course a lot more intimately, but that really was it, she had no clue what was going on in his mind, what he was thinking, what had brought him to this. She had crossed that line before taking time to find out. That was however, hindsight and there was nothing she could do about it. Now she had to be both, the woman who had jumped willing into bed with Lucius Malfoy and the professional woman, whom his son had come to and asked for help.  This could quite possibly be Hermione Granger’s biggest challenge to date, destroying Horcruxes, taking on Voldemort, seemed somehow minor compared to stepping into the dark recesses of Lucius Malfoy’s brain or understanding his clearly tortured soul.

“Good morning Lucius.” She spoke a little louder this time, the salutation was hardly appropriate but she needed him to at least speak to her.

“Hermione.” He did not look at her, nor did he move, save the still circling thumb, which tore deeper into his pale flesh.

She wanted to stop him, touch her lips to his wound, to his blood, kiss it all better she mused sadly. But she just shifted uncomfortably, perhaps she should have put on her clothes, approaching him, talking to him, looking so dishevelled from the passion they had shared the previous night, was not really conducive to his mood now.

Hermione reminded herself she was not 12 years old anymore, she was a grown woman. The fact she was a grown woman, a strong woman, who made her own choices and decisions were precisely the reasons why she was standing here.

“You should go.” Still Lucius did not look at her, his gaze firmly fixed on some imaginary spot through the sunlit glass. His aristocratic tones more clipped and detached than ever, as they drifted across the tense silent room.

Hermione had two options, not exactly fight or flight, but it came close.  She could pretend that she had not seen the Daily Prophet, that she didn’t understand why Lucius was being so cold, asking her to leave, but that would mean lying to him, which was something she had never wanted to do, it would also mean that he would feel the need to explain why he wanted her to leave, and that was something she did not want to put him through the pain of doing.

Hermione’s mouth suddenly went dry, it occurring to her that perhaps, he hadn’t seen the article at all, he did simply want her to leave, feeling that last night had been a mistake, these things happen. She might not know the dark wizard very well, but even over the short time they had spent together, he had been brutally honest and very open with her, if that had been the case, she really felt she would not have been allowed to spend the night in his bed, he would have coldly asked her to leave long before now.  She may be wrong, but feminine intuition told her otherwise.

The other option was far simpler, but potentially a lot more perilous, she could just confront the situation head on, take the bull by the horns. Even if she hadn’t crossed that fateful line with Lucius, reality decreed she only really had one option.

“Because of some nasty words, lies, written by a vicious, ill-informed journalist, is that what you want Lucius?”

For the first time he turned to face her, she had never seen eyes that colour before, stormy grey, thunderous blue, didn’t come close, but even in his anger she could see hurt, defeat even, reflected in their depths. She then saw a tiny flicker of something else, surprise, maybe amusement, as he took in the sight of her. She supposed she did cut a surprising, rather amusing figure, provoking such a formidable man, her small frame clad in nothing but a bed sheet.  It was Hermione’s turn to square her shoulders, that little flicker, that had now faded once more, had given her courage, and had given her confidence. She noticed his fingers had stilled, his knuckles white as they fiercely gripped the green eyed serpent, but, this too gave her hope.

“It is for the best.” He spoke slowly and firmly, his voice brooking no room for argument.

“Best for whom?” Hermione stood her ground against his daunting presence, against his barely constrained fury. Struggling to contain her own anger and her own hurt, she staunchly went on.

“I’ve been on the receiving end of Rita Skeeter’s poison pen, most people know it’s all rubbish, vicious gossip to sell the rotten paper.” She continued to fight the overwhelming need to rush to him.

“Maybe for someone like you Hermione, it is just gossip, people are prepared to think the best of you, people know it isn’t the real you. But of someone like me? A self-deprecating laugh fell from his mouth, that oh so familiar sneer curling his lips. “They don’t know me, only the person I have been perceived to be. All the horrible things, are much easier to believe.”

Hermione hated to admit that he was right; Lucius Malfoy was a known Death Eater, a follower of the Dark Lord, he had been sent to Prison for his crimes, twice! Of course it was going to be easy for people to believe, that he was a wife beater, a womaniser and any other vile thing that was written about him.  Not so long ago, she might have been amongst them, although not from gossip written in a rag like the Daily Prophet. 

The strange thing was for all of his faults, his failings, the crimes he had committed, Hermione really could not see Lucius Malfoy as a man who had ever laid a hand on his wife or who had ever been unfaithful to her. He had in the end put his life on the line for both his wife and his son, this was not the action of man who was capable of either. On a much smaller scale he had even admitted to her, that had he still been with Narcissa, he would have thought more carefully about inviting Hermione to dinner, this was hardly the act or the admission of a serial adulterer, that man, would not have given it a second thought.

 

Clutching the white fabric about herself, Hermione took a tentative step closer to Lucius, it brought her squarely into the sun, now streaming through the large window. She smiled gently at him, about to reassure him, that she didn’t believe Rita Skeeter’s hurtful, unsubstantiated lies, and then she saw the look on his face. It was a look of pure horror, of unadulterated shame, anger flared his nostrils, his Adam’s apple bobbed furiously, and for the first time he could not look at her, his pale grey eyes averted, looking anywhere but at her. Confusion flooded the young witch, she had said nothing, had done nothing, perhaps he did truly regret their night together.

Hermione suddenly caught sight of her wrist, the wrist he had captured with such ferocity the previous afternoon, surely he was not still worried about that, they had moved on, but then she supposed along with the article, as the Muggles would have you believe, there is no smoke without fire.

Pulling the sheet up a little higher, Hermione noticed another bruise a little further up her arm and another, this one was in varying shades of black and blue, it looked like a handprint had been daubed on her arm. She surreptitiously glanced at her other arm, which bore identical marks. A huge mirror hung above the fireplace in the room and Hermione, looked briefly at her reflection.  Her shoulder had almost a complete bite mark on it, it stood red and angry, no doubt an excellent replica of Lucius’ pearly white teeth. On her neck was a hickey, a love bite, whatever you wanted to call it, Hermione felt colour suffuse her face, she had never had one of those in her entire life, not even as a teenager. Under any other circumstances it would have been funny, it would even have been enjoyable remembering the passion that had caused such brandings.  The anger, repulsion and utter humiliation etched on Lucius Malfoy’s whiter than usual face, was far from funny or enjoyable.

The temper that Hermione had been hanging onto by a dragon heart string snapped, she would not allow someone as despicable as Rita Skeeter, to reduce the night she had spent with Lucius to nothing more than gutter press garbage, or allow him to despise himself because of her words.

Tears of rage and of hurt pricked her eyes, admittedly, the sex had been a little rougher than what she was used to, but that was not exactly difficult, Ronald Weasley was a placid and considerate lover, sometimes a little too much so. The sex with Lucius, her face and body once more coloured and flooded with a delicious heat at the memory, the sex with the Dark Wizard had been uninhibited and ardent and she had loved every moment of it, revelled in it. If it wasn’t for the hateful Rita Skeeter, she might have been in bed right now enjoying more of the same. Her face flushed hotter still, but her blood boiled.

She strode purposefully across the room, well as purposefully as she could, wrapped in a white cotton sheet, closing the small space between her and Lucius, she saw him take a step backwards, his fingers tightening yet further, around the glittering serpent head on his cane. He was hardly going to hex her, but it reminded Hermione of what this man was actually capable of, undeterred, she stood before Lucius, her chest puffed out at him like an angry hippogriff.

“These.” She said almost proudly, raising her arms at him, whilst being careful not to let go of the sheet.

“And these.” With her free hand she touched her fingertips to the marks on her neck and shoulder. “Were given in passion, not in temper. You have not abused me or mistreated me in any way.” Tilting her head, she gave him full view of the marks she wore like medals.

His face blanched even more, as he regarded the various markings on his delicate skin.

“I am sure if you were to remove your robes, my fingers and nails will have left their own imprints of shared passion, on your back and your shoulders.”

Hermione saw the visible shock on Lucius Malfoy’s face, she was uncertain if it was because of her fiery outburst, or him trying to comprehend the whole pain and pleasure scenario, surely a man of his experience, dare she say his age must understand that. The look on his face however, was telling a very different story.

“Lucius I felt you do every one of these things to me.” Her tone was imploring, willing him to understand.

“I felt your fingers grasping my arm and biting into my flesh. I felt your teeth nipping at my skin and I felt your mouth sucking and drawing on my blood. I loved every moment of it. You did not hurt me, you were carried away on a moment, **_we_** were carried away on a moment. Moments of overwhelming pleasure, shared pleasure……”

She saw the unrelenting darkness which clouded his face, her heart sinking, knowing she was fighting a losing battle.

“But what if it had not been overwhelming pleasure, what if it had been anger, what might I have done to you or someone else.”

Whatever Hermione Granger had known Lucius Malfoy to be, she also knew he was a changed man. A little part in every woman, loved, as Ginny Weasley had put it, the “bad boy”, but had Lucius Malfoy been the man she had once know and loathed, the supreme, “bad boy”, Hermione Granger would never have slept with him. She knew in her heart of hearts that he would not knowingly hurt her, she also stood by her convictions, that he was none of the things the hateful Rita Skeeter painted him to be. Convincing him of that was going to be a lot harder, and every instinct she possessed, both professionally and as a woman told her, that this was not the time to try. 


	28. Invictus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione being Hermione, needs to understand things better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks as always for comments and kudos
> 
> This is a very different chapter and I hope you will enjoy it and understand why I have written it. It revolves around a poem of the same title....
> 
> Out of the night that covers me,  
> Black as the pit from pole to pole,  
> I thank whatever gods may be  
> For my unconquerable soul.
> 
> In the fell clutch of circumstance  
> I have not winced nor cried aloud.  
> Under the bludgeonings of chance  
> My head is bloody, but unbowed.
> 
> Beyond this place of wrath and tears  
> Looms but the Horror of the shade,  
> And yet the menace of the years  
> Finds, and shall find me, unafraid.
> 
> It matters not how strait the gate,  
> How charged with punishments the scroll,  
> I am the master of my fate:  
> I am the captain of my soul

“Are you sure about this Miss Granger?” Wilhemina Harris the current Auror in charge at Azkaban asked for what must have been the fourth or quite possibly fifth time.   
“Yes Miss Harris, I am very sure, I need to be able to understand and empathise with certain things, I cannot do that without having experienced those things, even if it is only for one day.”  
Hermione wasn’t sure the Auror understood her reasoning, she certainly didn’t look convinced.  
“And the Minister is happy with this?”  
“Miss Harris, I have the Minister’s full support in all of my work here at Azkaban, this is no exception.”  
Hermione tried to sound as convincing as possible, although she wasn’t sure that Kingsley Shacklebolt would approve in the least with what she had in mind today.   
“And you even want the robes?” The older woman’s look of incredulity intensified.  
“Yes everything. I will leave all of my personal effects, including my wand with you. Everything needs to be as realistic as possible.”  
“Well Miss Granger if you are sure, I will make certain that the other Aurors are made fully aware of your request, and that it is complied with.” She gave the young witch another look of disbelief.  
“Thank you Miss Harris I appreciate your assistance. And the cell, it will be the one I requested.”  
“Yes of course, it’s currently unoccupied so it was not an issue.”  
The older woman looked as if she wanted to ask more questions but clearly thought better of it, for which Hermione was grateful. Her decision had been hard enough, without an inquisition of any sort from the Auror in charge.   
“Miss Granger are you absolutely sure you do not want to take anything with you, your wand, if you change your mind……...”  
“No Miss Harris, that is the point. I want you to lock the door behind me, just as you would any other prisoner. For the next 24 hours I am a prisoner here and I will be treated just like any other, is that clear?”  
Hermione hoped her voice conveyed more authority and determination than she actually felt. It had taken every ounce of courage she possessed to walk back into this godforsaken place today, and that was before she had made her final decision to spend 24 hours here as a prisoner.   
“Yes Miss Granger perfectly.”  
Wilhemina Harris led the younger woman through a set of heavy doors and in to a small room, where she gave her the regulation prison robes to wear. Hermione traded her own clothes for the itchy striped dress, handing them to the Auror along with her shoes, her wand and other personal belongings. She was then lead through another set of heavy dark doors and deep into the belly of the Prison. Hermione swallowed hard, her mouth dry and her heart beating so fast it felt it were about to leap from her chest. She heard the doors close behind her and the wards set. Hermione knew if she changed her mind now, Wilhemina Harris would only be too pleased to return her clothes and wand, but Hermione persevered, she had to do this, she needed to do this.   
It was with the same reticence that the Auror opened the door to a small cell, and secured the long chained manacles around Hermione’s wrists.  
“Thank you Miss Harris, I am sure this must seem an awfully strange request, but……” Hermione fought to keep her voice from cracking. “But it’s something I have to do.”   
The Auror shook her head, if she had any further comments to make, she refrained. Simply turning and shutting the solid door behind her. Leaving Hermione shackled, in the small cell, a tiny chink of light drifting through the open space behind her. For the next 24 hours Hermione Granger was the Prisoner of Azkaban.   
When Hermione had left Lucius Malfoy’s hotel room the previous morning, instead of feeling agreeably naughty but distinctly gratified, she had felt totally helpless and less than useless. The brightest witch of her age, could more often than not, conjure some spell or another to alleviate a problem, and over recent months, had felt more than a little self-satisfaction with the non-magical help she had provided for her decidedly magical patients.   
She had wandered around aimlessly for a while, trying to clear her head of all manner of evil enchantments and spells she wanted to inflict on Rita Skeeter, as her temper had cooled, it had given way to shame; shame that she had been asked by someone for her help, and had complicated things ending up making them decidedly worse. Shame had moved quickly back to anger. She wasn’t ashamed that she had slept with Lucius Malfoy, far from it, but she didn’t have time to dwell on that right now, and she hadn’t made things worse, thoughts of more heinous curses and spells she could exact on the Daily Prophet reporter, once more flooded her mind, the Cruciatus Curse amongst them, but then she really would end up in Azkaban as opposed to at, unlike Draco, Hermione understood the semantics only too well. As she had continued to trudge the cold London streets, a thought had lodged in her mind, a thought that kept revolving around that very semantic, in Azkaban not at Azkaban.   
Draco Malfoy had against all of his prejudices, and their past history, asked Hermione for help, because he believed that quite possibly she was the only one that could. Hermione would like to have thought that professional vanity had brought her to the Ministry of Magic on a Sunday morning, but it was more than that. She genuinely wanted to be able to help Lucius, not just professionally or because his son had asked, but she didn’t have a clue where to begin. Perhaps spending a year in Azkaban had not been where his problems had begun, but for Hermione it seemed the logical place to start.   
Hermione being Hermione, she needed to do a little research first. The only thing she intended being in Azkaban with, was information. She had pressed floor 2 in the lift, which had taken her to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, all records from both Azkaban and Nurmengard were kept there, including details of past inmates, both dead and alive. It didn’t take the young witch long to find what she was looking for. Malfoy L 537.

Hermione shivered both with apprehension and cold as she sat on the rickety bunk, which like her was chained to the wall. Its coverings as itchy and thin as the robe Wilhemina Harris had given her, and she imagined they would do as little or nothing to keep out the glacial air which whipped through the small space. Her bare feet rested upon the damp grey rock, they were already dirty and quite frozen. The cell was devoid of anything, save the bed, there was a dilapidated wooden chair, a dirty toilet and a sink no bigger than a saucepan. There were no windows in the dark ancient structure, just simple slits in the stonework, which allowed any sunlight to filter through, bringing perhaps the smallest ray of warmth and comfort. And allowing the wind to howl around, carrying with it the desolate, helpless cries that came from within.  
The only difference between the time that Lucius had sat in this very cell and now, was that during his incarceration, Dementors had patrolled the surrounds and kept watch on the prisoners. When Kingsley Shacklebolt had taken over as Minister for Magic, he had banished the abhorrent creatures and put Aurors in charge. Hermione could still recall, with unnerving clarity, the brief time the foul beings had watched over Hogwarts, and the icy encounter she, Harry and Ron had experienced on the train back to school that same year. She remembered Professor Lupin telling Harry, that Azkaban didn’t need walls or water to keep its prisoners in, that they were trapped inside their own heads, the Dementors making them incapable of a single cheerful thought and that most went mad within weeks.   
Even without the Dementors, Hermione was already struggling with any cheerful thoughts, Merlin alone knew how anyone could survive this place of desolation and destruction, but with the decaying presence of Dementors it must have been hell on earth. The torment of centuries long gone, seeping from its well hewn walls, not an ounce of humanity to be seen or felt anywhere. The isolation and silence enough to destroy even the strongest of souls. Lucius had told her he was not the strongest of souls, he had been wrong and so had she to have thought his declaration true. Only the very strongest of souls could survive this evil place.  
She thought of Lucius; of the Lucius she had encountered at the party. His handsome, arrogant presence, dominating the room. Of the Lucius who had invited her to dinner. His beautiful grey eyes, twinkling as they had verbally sparred. Of the Lucius who she had taken to lunch. His touching openness. Of the Lucius whom she had given herself to, his beautiful powerful body, for the briefest of moments his scent overrode the horrible dampness that filled her nostrils, she clung to its tones, spicy and warm as they heated her blood. The scent vanished and once more, she was engulfed in that cold dampness, that made her bones ache. Hermione glanced down at her wrist, Lucius’ tight grasp the previous evening, had left a very faint bruise, just about visible in the dingy cell, and almost hidden beneath the thick shackle, which now restrained her. She touched her other hand to the cold metal and was immediately reminded of the picture which had adorned the front page of yesterday’s Daily Prophet. A different kind of cold once more seeped into her already chilled bones, and she thought again of Lucius; of the Lucius who had been a prisoner here. Shackled, and brought to his knees. Of the former Death Eater who had been sentenced to life imprisonment. Alone and to never see his family again. Of the follower of the Dark Lord, who had been abandoned by his so called master and left to perish, or worse still, be driven slowly mad by the loathsome Dementors.  
She of all people was more than well aware of some of the things Lucius had done, let alone been accused of, but even after only the briefest time as a prisoner in this horrific place, Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if he had truly deserved it. What other torturous perdition had he suffered? That now lay buried deep within him, that the repulsive Rita Skeeter thought made for good headlines.   
The wind continued to howl around the isolated fortress, she could hear the roaring sea crashing against its base, buried deep in the ocean, Hermione lost herself in the sounds. On the creaking bunk, propped against the stone wall she watched the angry sky through the tiny window, it was the colour of Lucius’ heated eyes, she thought with a small smile, trying to keep her thoughts pleasant, whilst not losing sight of the fact, he would not have had that luxury. The clouds rushed by, changing shape, bigger, then smaller and even a little chink of sunlight bravely peaked through, before the sky turned a thunderous shade of grey, lashing rain joined the cacophony of natural sounds which engulfed the secluded prison, unbelievably she must have drifted off to sleep.  
Hermione woke, she had no clue how much later, blind panic seized her brain. As the all-consuming darkness folded in around her. She had no idea how long she had been here, or what time it was; the sky was so dark, she really didn’t know if it was day or night, she had no idea how long the hours would stretch before her like this. Claustrophobic fear gripped her body, and clenched at her fast beating heart, she tried to think of nice things, things she could do when she left, but much as it pained her, and increased that all-encompassing sense of dread, she didn’t allow it, she pushed them aside. She did not have Dementors to suck the happy memories from her or to divest her of any pleasant thoughts, Hermione imposed that upon herself.   
For a while she paced, more in an effort to keep warm than anything else, the chains she wore restricted too much movement. A couple of times she forgot and found herself unceremoniously yanked back. Some food was slipped into her cell at some point, by one the guarding Aurors she gathered, but no one spoke, just as she had requested, Hermione was treated like any other inmate.  
The watery soup like substance, and small stale roll turned Hermione’s stomach and remained where it was. Again her mind wandered to Lucius, this time the meals they had shared, she tried to block them out, but the picture of Giovanni’s tiramisu and Lucius indulgent smile as she had covered the already cream laden desert, in yet more cream, wouldn’t go away, she let it linger there for just a little while, almost tasting the sweet wine and bitter chocolate.  
No one ever really talked about Azkaban, not those who had been sent to investigate anyway, not in the old days, someone once said the least frightening thing about the place was it was infested with Dementors, as the minutes and hours stretched before the young witch, she was beginning to understand what they meant. The darkness never seemed to end, and Hermione began to feel she would never see daylight again, she tried to reassure herself, that even the darkest of nights will end and the sun will rise.   
Occasionally the howling wind would blow the clouds by and she would see the waxing moon for just a moment or two. The moon always reminded her of Remus Lupin, and for a few moments she was again lost in thought, ironically there was more chocolate, she remembered him giving Harry chocolate on the train to school after their first encounter with the Dementors, when Sirius Black himself had escaped from Azkaban. She could now see exactly what Professor Lupin had meant, if she hadn’t had these memories to savour, she too would feel that she was going mad inside her own head; and she had only been here for a few hours. To survive any length of time in this godforsaken place, a person would have to have a truly unconquerable soul; however, Lucius Malfoy felt right now, or had felt in the time since leaving this place, Hermione had to concede the man clearly had a spirit that could not be broken.   
The sky finally cracked and the tiniest fissure of light trickled through the hole in the wall. Hermione breathed an audible sigh of relief, it was the tail end of winter, daybreak came about 6.30am or just after, on a bright day. The door to her cell would be opening soon, and whilst she wasn’t leaving the prison, she still had patients to see, she could at least return to some sort of normality.


	29. Catching Up At The Ministry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No dramatic rescues required, Hermione has duly been released from Azkaban and her ever active brain is already on to what happens next!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Housekeeping first as always. Thank you for comments and kudos, they really do inspire a girl to write and you have all been so lovely with them. Apologies as ever for errors grammatical or otherwise. There might be the odd one here for which I apologise profusely but I do try to avoid them at all costs :-) but I am only human (sometimes)

 

Hermione wasn’t one to shirk off work early or run away from anything, but by the time it got to Wednesday evening, the oppressive walls of Azkaban were really beginning to close in on her, its damp darkness occluding her senses until she could no longer think with any clarity. She needed to get away from here. Thus, she cut her week at here short. 7pm on Wednesday night saw her, wrinkled like a prune after a ridiculously long and much needed cleansing, in an excruciatingly hot bath. Smelling like an apothecary after pouring far too much scented oil in the tub, curled up amongst and array of cushions, in her favourite fluffy pyjamas.

 

She had tried not to think about Lucius, how he was, how he was feeling. She had tried not to think about Draco, did he know she had _talked_ to his father? And if he did, he was probably furious with her, but every moment that she wasn’t working, and even some when she had been, Hermione found herself thinking about nothing else but the two Malfoy men, and how she had let them both down.  

Lucius had made his feelings abundantly clear, and not wanting to cross the dark wizard or upset him any further Hermione had reluctantly complied with his request and left.  But what of Draco? The younger Malfoy had asked, had pleaded for her help, it was only fair that she speak to him, tell him……tell him what exactly?

She had to face him, but Merlin alone knew what she was going to say to him, she wondered how much he already knew of what had happened, if anything at all, which would mean telling him everything herself; that was going to be a fun conversation. She might have shirked the remainder of her week at Azkaban, but Hermione was not going to shirk her responsibilities, she might not owe Draco Malfoy much, but, she certainly owed him, if not an explanation, then definitely a conversation. Overcome by fatigue, and two rather large glasses of wine and only a very small sandwich, Hermione decided it was time for bed, her own soft comfortable bed. She would sleep on her exchange with Draco and owl him tomorrow when she got to the ministry. It was about time she gave that office of hers an airing, added a few personal items to make it feel like her own.

 

It was oddly comforting for once to be in an office, Hermione had only been in here three times, this was her fourth, since Kingsley Shacklebolt had offered her the job, or rather created the job for her as Head of Wizard Welfare and Rehabilitation. For the amount of time she had spent here so far, it was a ridiculously large room, but the Minister had insisted, she was officially a Head of Department, that in itself called for a large, well-appointed office. She had laughed at the head of department label, she _was_ the department, she didn’t have anyone working for her and doubted that she ever would. She got invited to meetings, mainly to keep her updated on what was going on elsewhere in the Ministry or in the wizarding world itself, but she doubted that anyone was interested or even understood what was going on in her realm; even as Aurors, Harry and Ron didn’t get it, or even pretended to. Thus being away from the centre of things was usually quite nice. Today however it felt entirely the reverse, it was good to be in the hub of the wizarding world, seeing familiar faces, people saying hello and how nice it was to see her.  Mundane greetings and polite conversation made everything seem so simple and so normal, it was only as she sat down to write her owl to Draco that reality set in.

She was on her fifth draft, hardly getting beyond the first two lines, when there was a confident wrap on her door, calling come in, the flamboyant figure of the Minister for Magic filled the doorway.

“Hermione, I heard that you were here.” He gave her a dazzling smile, entering the room proper.

“I thought I should stop by and say hello, I would say make sure you are settling in alright, but after three months I think I might be a bit too late.”

She couldn’t help but return his warm, infectious smile.

“Well I think it is probably, officially the first time I have actually worked here at the Ministry, usually I am just passing through or here for a meeting. So your welcome is appreciated.”

“Good, good, May I?”

He gestured one of the large comfortable seats positioned in front of Hermione’s desk.

“Of course please, I am not used to visitors clearly, and have forgotten my manners.”

As he sat, a little frisson of disquiet crept along Hermione’s spine, the minister was clearly here for more than just a belated, welcome.

“So what do we owe the pleasure of your visit, I thought you were at Azkaban this week, or am I getting old and confused?”

As if there was any such thing, Kingsley Shacklebolt might not be in the first flush of youth, but one could certainly not deem him old, in any sense of the word, and she was sure he was never confused about anything. He was clearly just humouring her, she had known him for many years, long before he was Minister and was simply a member of the order, very little escaped the wily wizard and Hermione had no doubt that was still very much the case. 

“Perish both of those thoughts Kingsley, those are most certainly two words I would never associate with you.” 

Whilst he didn’t exactly flush at her words, Hermione could tell he was suitably flattered by them, if he had heard about her little exploit at Azkaban, it paid to keep him on side, she decided that if not telling him outright, she would at least be a liberal with the truth.

“You are quite right I was at Azkaban, I was doing some fact finding this time, rather than visiting too many inmates.  I returned home yesterday evening. I had some things I needed to deal with, and it was easy to do that from here.”

“AAAHHH, fact finding, yes I spoke with Wilhemina Harris, she mentioned your _interesting_ request. I assured her that there would be a perfectly logical explanation for it.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, glad she had chosen to be reasonably honest with the Minister. Since the banishment of the Dementors from Azkaban, Kingsley Shacklebolt had kept a very close eye on the goings on there, something had told Hermione that everything that happened there now, found its way back to the Minister for Magic. She didn’t want him to know the real reason why she had spent a day locked up in the notorious prison, or how it had affected her; so was a little naughty and played to his ignorance and to his sympathy.

“Yes not an experience I would like to repeat.” She kept up with the honesty, within reason. “But I felt to understand things, people better, it was something I needed to do.”

The Minster brushed his chin thoughtfully and nodded his head. Kingsley Shacklebolt was a man of great learning, and also of vast experiences, Hermione knew he would appreciate that sentiment.

“Yes I see that Hermione, it is not always possible to understand what others have been through, unless you have walked in their shoes. Admirable.”

“That was exactly my feeling, it is so very insincere saying to someone, I know how you feel, or I understand completely, when really you have no clue. Of course I know my one day, is nothing like some have endured, but it gave me, well it gave me a small insight.”

Hermione could see Kingsley Shacklebolt was quite intrigued with her little experiment.

“I have to say Hermione, I find your dedication to your job and your patients as you call them, quite commendable. Even after such a short stay, I hope that you suffered no ill effects?”

Hermione didn’t tell the Minister that she cried herself to sleep for the first two nights and then last night had woken up screaming. She wasn’t entirely sure whether that was to do with the prison itself, or the prisoner whom she had been thinking about. Perhaps it was a little of both.

“Well as I said Kingsley it is not an experience I would like to repeat for real or that I will look back on with any fondness, but I do feel it was a ….. valuable experience, and will be of use in the future.”

The Minister smiled a little indulgently. “I am sure that is something you will never have to worry about Hermione. I am however glad, if perhaps glad is the right word, that you got some hands on experience. No substitute for it really.”

He rose from the chair, his large colourful frame filling the room. “Oh I almost forgot, you see, as I said I am getting old.”

Hermione once again gave him an amused, disbelieving look.

“Two things, firstly, do you need any help. I know what you do is very specialised but I was wondering if you perhaps needed someone to help you with anything, reports, notes, perhaps attending any meetings you cannot make, just to keep you up to speed. I wouldn’t want to think I was working you to a frazzle.”

Hermione was busy, but she hardly felt overworked or frazzled in any way and certainly not enough to justify having any staff, although it might be nice to have someone in London she could occasionally talk to.  She told Kingsley as much, but he insisted she think about, just in case. His _second thing_ was a bit more of a thunderbolt, although quite unintentionally so.

“The second is more social really, well at least I think it is. I had lunch with young Malfoy on Monday, his father is trying to find him something to do here at the Ministry, that’s totally unrelated to my first point by the way.” He waved a large hand around absently.

Hermione’s mouth had gone dry and the use of the words social and Malfoy, she hardly heard the last part. But her ears pricked up again when the Minister mentioned the Daily Prophet.

“Didn’t think I’d ever find myself saying it but Draco has turned into quite a nice young man, put the past behind him. Seems to be trying to move on with his life, shame about that awful stuff in the Prophet at the weekend. Anyway I digress, he was asking after you, if you were in London, said something about you were going to catch up.”

Hermione looked at Kingsley Shacklebolt in surprise, not entirely sure where this conversation was going.

“I just thought I would mention it because, well I told him you were out of town and he seemed a little disappointed, thought you might want to rectify my faux pas.” He grinned more than a little conspiratorially.

If Hermione didn’t know better she would swear the Minister for Magic was trying to fix her up, little did he know. Little did anyone know, least of all Draco. Hermione regained her thoughts and her composure quickly, not wanting the Minister to think anything was amiss.

“How odd Kingsley, I bumped into Draco last week, and we were going to catch up soon, I was just going to owl him, when you popped in.”

Her all be it half-hearted smile, and reassurances clearly worked, as the Minister rose from his seat.

“Excellent, excellent, I shall leave you to it. And it really is nice to see you here, all be it fleetingly I am sure. If you need anything at all Hermione, my door is always open, especially to you.”

With another beaming smile and amid a rustle of bright blue and gold robes, the Minister was gone. Leaving Hermione once more to Draco and the elusive owl.

“Dear Draco”

It was all she had written when there was another, slightly less authoritative knock on her door, this time she didn’t have a chance to call out come in, as Harry’s head appeared.

“Harry!” She all but squealed, jumping up from behind her desk and rushing across the room to hug her old friend.

“Hey you, little bird told me you were here.”

“More like huge and very brightly coloured one.” She beamed at Harry, hugging him once more. She wondered how long it would take Kingsley to tell him, she was here, about 10 minutes it would appear.

“Haven’t seen you about the place for a while. Azkaban lost its appeal?”

He teased her playfully, extricating himself from her warm embrace and flopping down in the same chair Kingsley Shacklebolt had occupied minutes before.

“Cold dingy prison in the North Sea, shiny plush office in central wizard London, you know, tough call. Thought you might have dragged Ronald along with you, or is he off skiving somewhere?”

Harry shifted in his seat, his discomfort didn’t go unnoticed by the ever observant young witch and she was quick to question him.

“Harry, what’s going on. Where is Ronald?”

Harry never could hide anything from Hermione, ever since they were 11 years old she had seen right through him.

“Well I would imagine, either being waited on hand and foot by Molly or being driven totally crazy by her, not sure which after a day or so at home.”

Harry smiled sheepishly at Hermione, still being more than a little evasive with any actual information.

“And WHY, precisely is Ronald Weasley at home on a Thursday being looked after by his mother?”

He shifted his position in the chair once more, glancing around Hermione’s rather nice office, which was actually bigger than his. Pushing his glasses up his nose he avoided eye contact with his oldest friend, one way or another she was not going to be happy, somehow looking into those big brown eyes, just made it worse.

“He had a bit of a run in with Malfoy on Tuesday afternoon.”

“Draco?” Asked Hermione, somewhat intrigued as she perched on the front of her desk, immediately in front of Harry, who shook his head.

“No Lucius Malfoy, he had a meeting here.”

Merlin’s beard it was like pulling bloody teeth.

“For Salazar’s sake Harry spit it out, what the hell happened?”

“Well actually, it was Ron’s fault and to be honest, if it had been me he was talking about, I think I might have been inclined to hex him to, but you know what Ron’s like, he engages his mouth before his brain.”

Hermione was only too well aware of Ronald Weasley, penchant for putting his foot, well and truly in it and for not thinking before he spoke. Last time he tried to hex a Malfoy, all be it in her defence, the repercussions had been far from pleasant, but at least then he had the excuse of only being 12. 

“Is Ronald alright, what did he say about Lucius….Malfoy.” Even after only the briefest of time together it was difficult to think of Malfoy senior as anything but Lucius.

“Yeah Ron’s fine, milking it for everything it’s worth, Molly is of course furious, won’t hear a word sad against Ron.  I think Mister Weasley is a bit on the fence but he isn’t saying that. Ron’s just a bit battered and bruised, he landed awkwardly from Malfoy’s hex, and Kingsley insisted that he take a couple of days off.”

“The Minister was there?”

Hermione was incredulous, that Kingsley had not said anything to her earlier about the incident.

“Yeah Kingsley was there, he was who Malfoy had the meeting with, he was seeing him out. Ron and I had just come back from lunch, he was mouthing off to a couple of witches from Muggle Relations, about Rita Skeeter’s article in Sunday’s Prophet. Malfoy heard him, and well if it was true or not Ron was out of order, Mister Malfoy clearly thought so, he asked Ron to apologise for his remarks at the _unfounded allegations.”_ Harry did his best Lucius Malfoy impersonation, which was frighteningly accurate and despite the severity of the situation Hermione had to laugh.

“And well you know Ron, he wouldn’t, he got really arsey with Lucius Malfoy and the next thing bang. Kingsley and I both stepped in, he escorted Lucius Malfoy from the building, he even apologised to him and I sorted Ron out.”

The blood in Hermione’s veins ran cold, she did not blame Lucius for his anger or his actions against Ronald, knowing just how belligerent and annoying Ronald Weasley could be, she felt sure they were justifiable, that Kingsley Shacklebolt had apologised to him, seemed only to back up that fact.  What frightened Hermione the most was that Lucius had chosen to retaliate against the younger wizard and in such a public place.

Harry glanced at the clock on Hermione’s wall.

“Sorry Hermione I have to dash, I am meeting Ginny for lunch.” His face flushed a little bit. As he added as an afterthought. “Do you want to join us; I am sure Ginny….”

“No, no, honestly, you go have a nice lunch. I really have some stuff I need to do. Say Hi to Ginny for me, I will see her soon.”

She hugged Harry warmly before he left and returned to her owl to Draco. She had toyed with flowery words, and niceties but in the end the message was short and to the point.

_Draco_

_Can we meet?_

_Hermione_


	30. A Return To Malfoy Manor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So how will Draco respond to Hermione's message.........enjoy........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as ever for your continued support with this story, in the guise of kudos and comments. Apologies for any faux pas.

 

The reply to her owl arrived with lightning speed.

_Granger_

_Of course we can meet, I really need to speak to you too. I cannot get into London at the moment, for reasons that you will understand when we meet._

_I know I have no right to ask this, after everything, but, is there any chance you could come to Wiltshire? I really would appreciate it; I don’t have anyone else I can turn to._

_It’s a long journey I know, maybe you could stay overnight._

_Owl me back as soon as you can and let me know_

_DM_

Hermione’s mouth almost fell open in surprise or should that be shock, not only at the content of Draco’s message, but, Malfoy Manor! Her stomach churned and nausea rose in her throat, she hadn’t been in Draco’s ancestral home since his deranged aunt had tortured her, could she really go back there, let alone spend in a night in the dark foreboding house. She supposed if she could spend a night locked up as a Prisoner in Azkaban, surely she could spend a night in a Manor House, even if it was house was Malfoy Manor.

She re-read the note, trying to read between the brief and fraught lines, she got the impression that he knew nothing of her _meeting_ with his father, and wasn’t entirely sure if that was good or bad. Recounting their meeting her way, or damage limitation, neither was particularly appealing. She studied his, far from elegant script, so different from his father’s confident and stylish penmanship, a sad smile, briefly lifted her lips. She had been the one asking to meet up, but she got the distinct impression, that somehow she had thrown Draco a lifeline. She actually felt sorry for him, ironically because he had to turn to her for help, that he had no other friends or family he could count on or call upon, when he so obviously needed someone.

She didn’t want to think about why he couldn’t leave Wiltshire; let alone why, he was so anxious for them to speak, or for her to travel to his home, to do just that. It had to be something to do with his father. Her mind fluctuated between, of course he must know about their meeting, and don’t be ridiculous, why would he. A small bead of sweat trickled down her spine, her palms damp, as it once again reverted to the former; maybe Draco was more than aware of what had transpired between them and didn’t want to have the conversation in public. But, in many respects Draco wasn’t his father’s son, he might be manipulative but he certainly didn’t have Lucius’ cunning. There was nothing in his owl that indicated he was luring her to Malfoy Manor for any other reasons than he needed to talk about his father, and his earlier request for her to speak with him, but Hermione was no longer sure she was in any position to help, but how could she tell Draco that?

Perhaps she really was simply overreacting. Draco couldn’t come into town, so? There could be countless reasons why not, she told herself irritably. She had after all been the one who suggested, on short notice that they meet, he was stuck in the country and had come up with a logical solution, what was so complicated about that? But the desperation that had forced him to ask someone he had once hated, for help, seemed to seep out of every word. That he was inviting her to his home, to stay, and of course the fact that he openly admitted to her of all people that he needed help at all. These were all reasons enough for Hermione to worry.

She penned a quick reply before courage failed her completely and she changed her mind, dispatching her owl with equal haste.

_Draco_

_Of course, I can. Would you like me to travel down on Friday evening or leave it until Saturday morning?_

_Hermione_

The reply came back faster than she would have imagined, which gave her even more cause for concern, the message leaving her in no doubt something was definitely wrong and that Draco Malfoy was totally unaware that she had seen or heard from his father, since he had requested her help.

_Granger_

_I would say leave now, but I know you are working, so just whenever you can get here. You can apparate to the gates and ring the bell or if you are coming directly from the Ministry you can floo into the Manor._

_And, Thank You._

_DM_

Never had two simple words caused Hermione such angst, even written, they seemed heartfelt, the relief in them, evident.

Hermione decided she would apparate to the Manor gates, as Draco had suggested and ring the bell. She didn’t have the nerve to floo directly into the heart of all things Malfoy, but as she stood outside the enormous house, in the cold night air, the imposing wrought iron gates with the high, neatly manicured hedges on either side, a bolt of fear tore through the young witch. It was a sight she was all too frighteningly familiar with, having stood in this very spot, once before. Jumping in at the deep end, flooing into the heart of Malfoy Manor might have proved a far less daunting…. terrifying option.

Moments after she rang the bell, the gates swung open, and she saw Draco coming down the gravel pathway to meet her, even in the moonlight she could see he looked paler than usual, his blues eyes tired and circled.

“Hi” A weak, equally tired smile, fleetingly lifting his thin lips. “I don’t deserve you being here Granger, but thank you for coming.”

His words caught her off guard, and after an already emotional week, Hermione felt her throat constrict and burn as she ridiculously fought tears.

“Of course Draco.” She tried to smile brightly, fortunately the night sky concealed her true anguish: “We agreed to move on didn’t we? This is moving on, you asked for my help, although I am not sure….”

Draco cut her off. “I know we did, but well, I have already asked a lot of you. And I know I am asking even more, just being here in this house.”

Hermione didn’t want to dwell on the fact she was returning to this place of so many awful memories, but from the look of Draco he had enough to contend with, without worrying about her in any way. She found it almost impossible to equate the thoughtful anxious young man, who thanked her for coming to his home, with the spiteful, hateful boy she had been at school with.

“Well, I am of the opinion if I can go to Azkaban, spend three weeks there, this should be a walk in the Forbidden Forrest.”

A slightly stronger smile lifted Draco’s lips and Hermione relaxed just a little bit, following him into his home.

She had to admit the house was nowhere near as dark or quite as sinister as she recalled, but it still belonged in a bygone era, steeped in formidable tradition and the old ways. The entrance was lit with an array of single candles and lamps, illuminating all manner of portraits of the Malfoy ancestors; some which she actually found more imposing than the house itself. They looked down their long pale noses at her, their equally pale beady eyes following, as Draco led her down the hallway. A house elf took her coat, before the young wizard ushered her into a room a little further down the corridor; allowing her to proceed him into the room, she had to smile, his action so reminiscent of his father’s impeccable manners, something he had never displayed during all of their years at school together.

“Are you OK Granger?” Draco enquired quietly.

Hermione was even more taken aback by his concern for her wellbeing, this certainly wasn’t the Draco she knew of old.

“I am fine Draco, thanks.”

He gestured for her to sit, clearly on edge, at her being in his home perhaps or something else, Hermione wasn’t sure. She sat on one of the small sofa’s in the room, casting a brief glance around her.  An enormous fire blazed cheerfully in the rather feminine room, the tones whilst not brightly coloured were certainly much lighter than those she would have expected to find in this house. There were a number of cushions scattered about, the pictures in the room were once more, family orientated, but Hermione noticed, they were of a young Draco and his father, they contained none of the stuffiness of the portraits that hung outside.

“This is, was, my mother’s sitting room.” Draco offered suddenly, as another house elf appeared with a large tray of tea, sandwiches and cakes.

Yes, it was thought Hermione, everything around her screamed of a woman, of a woman whose life revolved around her family, a woman who clearly adored her husband and her son.  

Narcissa was gone, both Draco and Lucius assured her of that but she couldn’t stop the little trickle of guilt that ebbed through her veins. She had slept with this woman’s husband, because to all intense and purposes, all be it in name only, Lucius Malfoy was still her husband. She had promised to help her son and what had she done, again her mind came full circle back to that night with Lucius.  Her heart pounded almost painfully in her chest, was he here? Did he know she was here?  She drew her attention back to Draco who was speaking to her once more.

“I thought it might be a bit less intimidating in here, it’s not so…..”

“It’s a lovely room Draco” This time it was Hermione who cut in, seeing Draco struggling. “It’s very feminine and you are right, much less intimidating.”

He seemed to relax at her compliment, and was happy to share some more memories of his mother.

“When it’s light, this room has the best view of the gardens, my mother used to love the gardens, she would often sit in here or the summer house and just enjoy the colours and the scent”

Hermione could see the hurt in the young wizard’s face as he spoke of Narcissa. He obviously missed his mother very much, or at least her presence in the house, it wasn’t as if she was dead, and Hermione was sure he still saw her, or that they at least kept in touch. She had probably been the only constant in his life, his guiding light through his formative years, and now she was no longer around. Hermione at least understood how hard that was.

“I didn’t know how hungry you would be, or what you liked so I thought sandwiches and cake were safe, we could have something else later if you like.”

She noticed the rapid change of subject but said nothing. She needed to talk to Draco, about what had happened with Lucius, both with herself, that really was a conversation she wasn’t looking forward to, and also about what had happened with Ronald at the Ministry, but she decided to let Draco take this at his pace and if that meant polite conversation about, flowers, tea and cake, then so be it.

“I didn’t have a chance to get lunch until a bit later today, so this is perfect. The cakes look really scrummy. I assume you baked them yourself?”

Despite her own raging anxieties, Hermione really felt for Draco Malfoy, she knew he had few friends and being alone in this huge house with just his father, must be hard at times. A little mocking humour, wouldn’t go amiss, the sudden out and out laugh from Draco was testament to that, the tension lifting from the room.

“Of course, an hour or so ago I was up to my elbows in flour.”

It was Hermione’s turn to laugh out loud, a wonderful image of Draco Malfoy filling her mind, pushing away the gloomier thoughts that lingered. Baking in his dark suit, floury fingerprints on the expensive material and a dusting across his pale face. There were a lot of things about today that were unexpected, being in this house was a good place to start, sharing such relatively easy humour with Draco was almost as startling.

Their light hearted banter came to an abrupt end with the noise of a door slamming outside, and the muffled but distinctive sound of Lucius Malfoy. His clipped tones menacingly low and threatening, they were followed by a dull thud and a small whimper, presumably a house elf, suffering the wrath of its master. Her angry brown eyes, met Draco’s almost frightened blue, across the small table, that had been set for tea. She wasn’t sure if the fear was for the altercation that was going on outside, or the fact that she might spring to her feet at any moment and intercede. The fear was clearly for her, Draco, wrongly assuming that she was in some way, once again fearful for her own safety in the house.

“It’s ok Granger, my father never comes into this room.”

His somewhat stunning revelation was pushed aside with indignation.

“Draco, I was not intimidated by your father when I was 12 years old, that is not going to change now. I am more concerned at the whimpering. I abhor the mistreatment of house elves or any other creatures.”

She saw the look on Draco’s face change to one of absolute horror, and he moved to sit next to her on the small sofa, his blue eyes wide and imploring.

“Granger, I don’t think I have ever known you be scared of anything, least of all my father, it’s one of the reasons that I asked you to talk to him.  But now is not a good time to pick a fight with him on his treatment of our house elves. In fact, now is not a good time to talk to him at all.” His voice was hushed and anxious as he continued.

“It’s one of the reasons, I couldn’t get into London, but I wanted to speak to you before you tried to speak to him. You don’t know how badly that article in the Prophet…..”

It was now or never, it was as if someone had slipped Veritaserum into her tea, she couldn’t lie to Draco, she wouldn’t.

“Draco.” She began slowly, holding her head up she looked directly into his troubled blue eyes.

“I already spoke to your father”. She felt heat flush her body, Draco’s troubled expression, changing to one of curiosity.

She would tell him as much as she needed to, without revealing everything.

“But, how?”

She took a deep breath: “You remember your father said, it would be nice for us to continue our conversation, the one from the Ministry party?”

Draco nodded, his blonde hair flopping over his face, he knew his father wanted to speak to the young witch again. It was another of the reasons he had come to Hermione.

“Well after you left my flat on Saturday morning, I got an owl from him, inviting me to lunch.”

Hermione omitted to tell Draco she had enjoyed dinner with his father the previous evening.

“Well to cut a long story short, we had lunch, we talked and”

“And…. Well…..what do you think?”

Hermione had to admit it wasn’t the reaction she had expected, there was no questioning of the fact Lucius had owled her, no surprise at the invitation of a lunch date, no interrogation about their conversation, just concern for his father. 

“I know my father has a temper, I know he doesn’t take kindly to _interference_ in his life, but Hermione this week…it’s been bad, I…even I.”

“Draco I know.” She put a placating hand lightly over his as it rested in his lap, squeezing it reassuringly, it was a gesture so very similar to the one she had offered Lucius, but so very different in its intent.

“I know what happened at the Ministry this week with Ronald, and I think for your father to react so violently and so publicly after everything that has happened in the past, is not a good sign.”

She felt and heard and almost audible sigh of what she could only term relief, from the young wizard at her side. His blue eyes once more coming up to look directly into hers.

“In a way I am glad.” Draco noticed the visible shock and confusion in Hermione’s face at his words.

“Glad that I am not imagining things, that there is actually something wrong. It was a horrible feeling, thinking that I just didn’t know my own father, that he had always been like this. Now _we can_ do something about it.”

WE! The word echoed around in Hermione’s head, certain, despite his aristocratic lines, that Draco did not mean it in the _royal_ sense.


	31. Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Hermione has returned once more to Malfoy Manor, what will the house hold for her this time around........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as ever, and apologies, this time it would appear for making you wait and building tension :-). I do try and update once a week if time allows so hopefully it is bearable

 

Hermione didn’t want to distress Draco any more, or burst his bubble, but she had to get him to understand that whatever was wrong with Lucius, from the short period of time she had spent with him, from the incident at the Ministry and from the altercation that had taken place just outside, there was going to be no quick or easy resolution. She really could not simply wave her magic wand and make it all better, it was, she felt, going to take time and a lot of patience.

She also had to very gently persuade Draco, that whilst they realised there was something wrong, Lucius Malfoy might not be of the same mind, thus any offers of help would not be welcomed. Hermione wasn’t even convinced of her own abilities, that she had experience or the capabilities to begin to understand, let alone help Draco’s father. Time was of course another factor entirely.

“Draco, I really appreciate your faith in my abilities, but before we can do anything, your father needs to want our help. And in all honesty he doesn’t strike me as the kind of man that will admit he needs it, let alone ask.”

Draco grasped her hand between his, he couldn’t believe that she was even willing to help, neither he nor his father deserved it, they had both treated her despicably.  But he did have confidence in her, she had always been the smartest person he knew, even if until now, he had never been prepared to admit it. She had other skills, skills that no one else possessed let alone understood, if anyone could help his father she could. He also knew, the undeniably smart Hermione Granger was right about something else, getting his father to admit there was anything amiss and that he needed help was not going to be easy, impossible was probably a more accurate description.

“Granger, I do have total faith. You are, and always have been the most annoyingly smart person I know, and I am not just saying that because of this.” He looked at her a little sheepishly.

“I really am convinced that no one else can help my father. I am not sure anyone else would have the courage to even try.”

Courage was the easy part, Hermione wished she had Draco’s belief in herself, but she had to try. For professional reasons if nothing else, this was what she had wanted to do. Where to start, like finding time was another factor entirely. 

Hermione stifled a yawn, it was hardly late but it had been a long stressful day and it was catching up with her.

“I am not much of a host am I?” Draco said getting to his feet. “My mother would be mortified that I wasn’t looking after a guest properly. Come on let me show you to your rooms, we can talk more tomorrow.”

Hermione gratefully rose, she really was exhausted, both mentally and physically.

Draco opened the door to his mother’s sitting room, Hermione couldn’t fail to notice his quick glance up and down the hallway, presumably to ensure they were not about to bump into Lucius. Thankful for his diligence, she had no problem facing Lucius Malfoy in whatever mood he was in, but she needed her wits about her and those had long since fallen asleep.

“Granger I have asked Miffy to look after you, whilst you are here. Just call and she will come, whatever you need.”

Draco hoped the rather timid little elf hadn’t been the one on the receiving end of his father’s foul temper earlier. He saw a look of reticence cross Hermione’s face, he knew she wasn’t keen on the idea of house elves, but thought it would be easier than her trying to find her way around the manor.

“That’s the kitchen through that door there, but like I said if there is anything you need just call for Miffy. We can meet in my mother’s sitting room for breakfast, whenever you are ready, just send Miffy for me.”

Hermione nodded wearily taking note of Draco’s instructions and following him up the huge staircase which dominated the entrance hall of Malfoy Manor.

“This is it. I hope it’s ok, I am not used to having guests of my own and well mother used to look after any visitors that came.”

Hermione noticed that sad reflective look which once again haunted the young wizard’s blue eyes.  She smiled gratefully at him.

“Thanks Draco, I am sure they will be f…ine!” Her jaw all but hit the floor as she passed through the door that he held open for her. The room was bigger than her flat.

“There is a bathroom just through that door over there, Miffy put fresh towels and scents in there for you, so just make yourself comfortable and please, call her if you need anything.”

Hermione’s tired eyes took in the beautifully decorated room, that was dominated by a large four poster bed, swathed in tones of silver grey and purple.  As in the sitting room, a fire roared cheerfully in the grate, spitting and crackling gently.

“Wow” Was all Hermione could manage, as she moved further inside.

A small smile curved Draco’s lips, pleased that he had obviously made a good choice.

“I hope that means it’s ok.”

Hermione returned his smile, looking around her once more. “I think ok is a slight understatement Draco.”

For once Hermione was at a loss for words, another bad memory of this house vanishing with the beauty and elegance that surrounded her.

“Don’t forget call Miffy if you need anything at all. I hope you sleep alright, and thanks again Granger.”

Hermione turned to the departing Draco.

“I hope I can help Draco, truly I do.”

“So do I” His words were hushed, his voice tinged with the same haunted sadness his eyes had displayed moments earlier. With that he closed the heavy wooden door.

A sudden sharp crack, heralded the arrival a house elf, and Miffy stood shyly by the bed.

“I am Miffy, Miss Hermione, the young master said I should check to see if you had everything you needed, or if I could get you something else.” The small creature tugged nervously on one of her huge ears.

Hermione was still taking in the room, which seemed to have better amenities than Lucius’ hotel room, she wanted for nothing. There was even a bottle of wine, actually there were two bottles, one white which sat in bucket surrounded by a cooling charm. The other was red and rested on the stone hearth near the blazing fire. Draco had clearly learnt a lot from his mother about taking care of guests.

“The young master is very kind, as are you Miffy.”

Hermione watched the little elf squirm at her words, clearly not used to be thanked or complimented in such a way.

“I think I have everything I need.”

Having become quickly embroiled in conversation with Draco, she hadn’t really been able to enjoy a nice hot cup of tea, and tempting as both bottles of wine looked, the thought of a hot sweeter than usual beverage was beyond bliss.

“Actually Miffy, there is something you could get for me, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Miffy is here for Miss Hermione.”

With the little elf dispatched to get tea, Hermione wandered into the bathroom, this time she was certain her jaw did hit the floor. More shades of silver grey and purple, were mixed with black and white marble. A mountain of thick towels in all of those colours were piled high beside a freestanding bath tube which rivalled the size of her bed.

“Would Miss Hermione, like Miffy to fill the bath?”

Hermione hadn’t heard the small creature return, clasping a large cup and saucer between her long bony fingers. She didn’t like the idea of using house elves, but knew they were very easily offended, if you declined their services.  She took the steaming brew from Miffy’s outstretched hand, accepting her offer to run the bath. Moments later the room was filled with sweetly scented steam, the tub almost full to the brim. Hermione placed her tea on the oversized lip and thanked Miffy for her help, assuring her she would call if she needed anything else.

Quickly discarding her clothes and leaving them unceremoniously on the floor, Hermione slipped into the idyllically hot water.  The oily bubbles lapped at her skin, rising to her neck, and engulfing her in their delicate relaxing fragrance.  Candles in those same shades of silver grey and purple drifted around the room, immersing it in a soft glow.  Hermione wondered if she would ever get out, knowing full well, for the second time that week she was going to resemble a wrinkled old prune. She didn’t care, she might well be in Malfoy Manor, she might well have a herculean task ahead of her, but just for the moment she was going to forget all about that, block it from her tired brain, and just soak, relax and enjoy. Not two words she had ever thought she would use in the same sentence as Malfoy Manor, but clearly times changed.

The expensive cotton sheets were as deliciously cool as the bath had been hot, feeling exquisite against her freshly bathed skin, as they encased her in their softness.  Wanting to savour that luscious feeling against her skin, she slipped of her nightwear, tumbling into that same delicious coolness, the feathery cover falling about her, her head sinking into the rich down of the large, square pillows.

What a complete contrast to how she had spent first day of this week. The thin cotton bedding in Azkaban, harsh and scratchy against her dirty skin. Her head unable to get comfortable on the practically non-existent pillow, the rickety bunk creaking beneath every tiny shift in her weight.  She had not been used to such blatant luxury and had struggled with the cold austerity, she wondered how Lucius had endured it, after all he was used to. It was yet another hardship to endure, all be it a more trivial one, but it too must have affected him in some way, being reduced to that, from all of this.

Much as she tried to clear her brain of all thoughts of Lucius, what lie ahead and what had gone before, she found her mind wandering to the angry sound of his voice earlier. Wherever he was now, was he still angry, was he even still in the house? Perhaps like her, he had bathed and retired for the night and was lying naked in his bed. Heat surged through Hermione at the mere thought of Lucius Malfoy’s powerful naked body, lying beneath the soft cool sheets. Imagining him naked beside her, closing her eyes tightly, she blocked out the unbridled thought. Snuggling into the soft bedding she felt his body against her own, his strength crushingly comforting, his hard arousal possessing her, she moaned softly into the darkness, wrapped in his all-consuming embrace, Hermione felt sleep begin to claim her, slowly drifting into the arms of Morpheus.

 

 


	32. What Fresh Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Hermione is at Malfoy Manor and what of the Master Of The House........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks as always for comments and kudos. My apologies as ever for any errors be they small or large be they gramtical or otherwise, I sincerly hope they do not detract from your enjoyment in anyway.

 

Lucius Malfoy staggered precariously from the French window in his bedroom which overlooked the gardens, to his bed. His long fingers, tightly clutching a heavy cut glass tumbler containing his umpteenth Firewhiskey. The little tipple, he used to enjoy in the early evening, just before dinner, had got earlier and earlier this last week. He had no idea what time he had consumed the first today, maybe a little after lunch, well what would have been a little after lunch, had he had any. But he really didn’t care, the bliss of his alcoholic stupor meant he didn’t remember or care about anything.  He could sleep in peaceful oblivion and not in tortured nightmares.

He placed the glass heavily on his nightstand, topped up with a good measure of the amber liquid, just in case he should happen to wake in the night.  Sitting on the edge of his enormous four poster bed he kicked of his shoes, bending awkwardly, he removed his socks, his head spinning from the action. He really couldn’t be bothered to take anything else off, his brain, intoxicated with Firewhiskey couldn’t conjure the easiest of spells to remove any further items of clothing, or cleanse his unwashed body and he certainly had no inclination to bathe.  As he fell back into the all-encompassing luxury of his bedding, he wondered why he had even got out of it today. His uncoordinated fingers ripped angrily at the buttons on his shirt, sending them scattering across the floor in all directions. He pulled at the expensive material, tugging it free from his trousers, he wanted to feel the soft coolness of the bed linen against his skin, he needed to feel it. To reassure himself that he was safe here at the manor, that this wasn’t some cruel nightmare and that he would wake and find himself on the small dirty bunk in Azkaban, cold and alone, the thin rough fibres, scratching his already sore and aching skin, the relentless darkness surrounding him.

Despite his drunken state, and his inability to conjure even the simplest of spells, his mind was still racing. Under the influence of alcohol, he could block out almost everything. Everything that was except Hermione Granger, those few hours they had shared together, still etched indelibly on his brain. The meals, the conversation, the sex, they crept into his mind at every given opportunity. She drifted into his dreams, soft and warm, she raced from his nightmares hurt and scared. 

The harder he tried to push her from his thoughts, the more she came back, his drunken laughter echoed around the silent, lonely room. Typical of Hermione Granger; tenacious, feisty little thing she was, never letting go, but she had gone, like Narcissa, he had forced her to leave. Unlike Narcissa, deep down he had hoped she’d stay, would fight him, she always fought him, but not this time. Through his haze of Firewhiskey, he could still see her standing in the hotel, wrapped in the bedsheet like some beautiful Grecian goddess, she had stood tall, defied him, but at the same time, treated him with such tenderness, but then she too had left.

Lucius was alone once more to face his demons. To deal with the eternal hatred of those who knew no better, those who would forever paint him as the evil dark wizard, who followed Voldemort, who wanted only a world of purebloods. Once upon a time he would have worn those tags with pride, seeing nothing wrong with his following and his desires for a Muggle free existence. But that was then, now along with those, he had been labelled a man who would beat his wife, a philanderer who slept with whores.  He no longer wore them with any pride, hating the stigma of the past that clung to him like a decaying stench and hating the lies of the present, written because now he was easy prey, but was still worth reading about, he was no longer the once feared, once powerful Lucius Malfoy.

Thankfully the over indulgence of alcohol began to take effect, his mind began to quieten and even thoughts of the beautiful and feisty Miss Granger began to ebb away, darkness enveloping his mind, taking him into his dreams. Sometimes she came to him in his dreams…….

The long slim fingers curled around his wrist, brushing against his warm, damp skin. Something brushed against his bare chest, her long dark hair maybe? Her lips would be upon him soon and once more Lucius would succumb to the pleasure of her mouth. The room was cool and dark, only the sounds of the wind rushing through the trees could be heard beyond the windows. He moaned loudly into the night, waiting for her gentle touch.  But instead of the delicate warmth of Hermione Granger, Lucius felt a familiar intense cold sweep over him. A cold that went beyond his very skin, it seeped viciously into his bones, working its way into his chest and curling around his fast beating heart. Instead of revelling in the glorious heat of Hermione Granger, he was drowning in intense cold, being dragged further and further down. He tried desperately to claw his way back, the sound of rushing water all around him, blocking out her sweet voice as she called his name.

The fingers which had wrapped around his wrist, were grey and gnarled, it wasn’t her sweet flesh, but the slimy decayed hand of a Dementor. The brushing sensation across his upper body, wasn’t her silky scented hair, it was the floating grey cloak of the loathsome creature. Lucius struggled to get away from it, his icy cold flesh bathed in sweat, as it drew, what passed as a bony finger across his petrified body. He thrashed around, not in ecstasy as he had hoped, but in utter terror as the faceless being came closer and closer, ready to drain him of anything he had left.

He called out to Hermione, she had to be here, he had to have seen her, he couldn’t have imagined it. He couldn’t have imagined that sweetness, that tenderness. He couldn’t have imagined her gentle touch or her warm mouth, he couldn’t have, what torturous curse was this, a Cruciatus inflicting a very different kind of pain on the dark wizard.

Another ear-piercing screamed was wrenched from his body, the vile Dementor towered over him, its ghostlike presence tormenting him.  He writhed against the sheets, his hands tightly furled into the material, gasping to get away, unable to breath, he shook so violently that the bed beneath him groaned in protest.  In the distance he saw her, fearless as ever, against the odious creature, she moved towards them, her wand raised, he heard her utter something but the sound of rushing water still filled his ears. Lucius shook his head to clear it, it swam dizzily and nausea rose in his stomach, the Dementor was gradually fading, now just a shadowy figure. The temperature began to rise and Lucius hurled himself at the young witch, waiting for her arms to embrace him.

The embrace did not come, there was no Dementor and there was no Hermione. Tonight his alcohol induced dreams had turned into a nightmare, one he feared he would never wake from.

Lucius struggled to sit up, his head continued to swim in the darkness that surrounded him, his stomach lurched and he fought to control his ragged breathing. Sweat soaked the clothes he still wore, his already unkempt hair, sticking to his neck and face, his fingers aching from his desperate clutching of his bedding. 

He reached for the glass at the side of his bed, draining it, his stomach protested as did his head, Lucius again sank into the soft cotton, back once more into a fitful, nightmarish sleep, where hell duelled with the only good thing that had come into his life in a very long time. But unlike the hell, he had banished her.


	33. A Candy Coloured Clown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something has woken Hermione.............

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My continued thanks etc for your comments/kudos on this story. I really am so pleased that you are enjoying it and hope you will continue to do so :-)

 

Hermione awoke with a juddering start, for the third time in a week, in a strange bed, her disorientation quickly overshadowed the gut wrenching scream she heard. At first she thought she was dreaming, then remembering where she was, she assumed an old house like this must make many strange sounds in the dead of night.  In the semi darkness, the room still gently lit by the fire, she listened intently, save the odd little crackle and pop from the hearth, all was quiet and then she heard it again. There was no mistaking the sound of someone calling out in agonised misery, for a brief moment she contemplated that perhaps the manor was haunted, boasting its own Moaning Myrtle or even a Nearly Headless Nick, but this wasn’t a ghostly sound, it was a heart wrenching cry of utter despair. What made it all the more agonising was that even as a mere cry, there was no disguising the familiar all be it pained tones of Lucius Malfoy.

She sat bolt upright in her bed, her hands balled tightly into fists, her heart beating so fast it pounded in her ears, her mouth was as dry as parchment. Moments went by, nothing, the house once more lapsed into peaceful silence. And then she heard it again, more muffled this time, like a strangled sob. Hermione thought Draco would surely hear his father calling out, in such obvious distress, but as the sound came again, Hermione realised that wasn’t the case. She reached for her wand, this was not her house, it was not her place to……...Draco had asked her to help his father. She hadn’t known where to start; but walking into Lucius Malfoy’s bedroom in the dead of night, as he suffered, what was clearly a terrifying nightmare was not exactly what she’d had in mind. She didn’t even want to think about how he would react, she swallowed hard, putting her feet to the floor.  Again she heard his agonised cry, sounding almost as if he called a name, and she could stand it no longer.

“Lumos”. A small bright light flowed from the end of her wand.

Hermione strode purposefully across her bedroom, her steps faltering as she opened the heavy wooden door and ventured out into the deserted hallway.

A few lamps, dimly lit the landing, Draco hadn’t told her what was behind any of the doors, not even which room was his, she knew other than the house elves, there was only the three of them in the house, but she really didn’t want to start opening an array of doors. A loud groan came from beyond a large door at the far end of the corridor. The master bedroom thought Hermione, in every sense of the word, Merlin! She wished she had Harry’s invisibility cloak. Nervously she moved along the hallway, cold striking beneath her bare feet, making her shiver even more. She made to knock on the door, but decided against it, a sudden unexpected sound could do more harm than good, if Lucius was indeed still sleeping.  She slowly turned the handle, the door swinging silently open, her heart all but stopping as she heard her own name called in a half sob, knowing instinctively it was in sleep, she stepped further into the room.

Even with her illuminated wand, it took her eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness within the room, they were drawn towards the noises rather than any shape, her name interspersed, with the sound of someone thrashing around.  Another groan was torn from Lucius’ lips, and she moved fully into the room, carefully approaching his bed.  As she drew ever closer, her nostrils were overwhelmed with the stale smell of alcohol, there was no mix of the spicy heady cologne that she had come to associate with the dark wizard, a less than fresh odour assailing her senses.  Shock at the sight of the man on the bed overwhelmed her and a small gasp escaped her lips.

The last time she had seen Lucius Malfoy, was Sunday morning, less than a week ago. He looked just as he had that first time she’d seen him in Flourish and Blotts, if not more, supremely arrogant, and after the night they had just spent, even more desirable. She hardly recognised the man who fought, heaven knows what terrors in his nightmare, prostrate before her. She was unprepared for the wave of pain that tore through her own body, gripping at her heart and making tears sting her eyes.

Even in the gloominess of the room, accentuated by the canopy that ensconced his bed, she could see, the dark circles that creased about his eyes, eyes screwed tightly shut in fear. The soft pale skin of his face, marred by a dirty dark blonde stubble.  His lustrous, silky platinum hair, was greasy and unwashed, most of it was splayed across the pillow behind him, but some clung to his face, damp with perspiration, as he writhed fearfully against whatever permeated his dreams.

Suddenly he sat up a tortured “No”, falling from his painfully dry lips.

Hermione was but a foot or two from him, concealed by the darkness, his eyes were now wide open, the beautiful grey, haunted and rimmed with red. She moved forwarded out of the shadows, closer to the bed, Lucius stared ahead sightlessly, his body shaking, his breathing ragged.

“Lucius”. Hermione whispered his name, at the edge of the bed now.

Although he was clearly still trapped in sleep, Hermione saw something register in his face, as if somewhere in the dark, disturbed recesses of his mind he had heard her call his name.

She sat on the very edge of the bed, her slight weight dipped the mattress, but she didn’t touch him in any way.

“Lucius.” She said his name again, softly, but louder this time, gently trying to penetrate his subconscious but without distressing him.

Again she saw that odd flicker of recognition on his face, this time as if he were listening for her voice, seeking her out.

“I'm here.” She said her own voice shaking, laced with emotion and a certain amount of her own fear.

His hand stretched out, as if he were blind, scrabbling around in a dark unknown world.  Hermione ducked out of his reach, if he touched her he might wake suddenly, and finding her here at this moment might do cause more problems than it would resolve.

Hermione placed her wand on the nightstand, the lumos charm casting them in a small circle of light. Pain once more gripped viciously at her chest, this time it was laden with guilt. How could she have just walked away on Sunday, Draco had warned her what the article might do to his father. But rather than defy dark wizard’s wishes, fight him, she had walked away, allowing him to fall into this.  She berated herself for her lack of courage and her lack of professionalism, her judgement clearly impaired by what they had done.  But now, finding what they had done, what they had shared, made her more determined than ever to help him. If she still could, surely even Lucius Malfoy could not deny he needed that help?

Her errant thoughts were brought once more back into the room, as Lucius’ long fingers bit into her bare flesh, just above the knee they curled. Hermione tried not to cry out either in pain or in surprise.

“Lucius, I am here, it’s alright.” She hardly recognised her own voice, barely audible in the silent room, and almost breaking with emotion.

“Hermione, is that you?”

Still she saw that little flicker of recognition, relief flooding his face, his eyes still searching blindly for her. This time she did not move from his outstretched hand, he had already touched her and remained, it would appear still asleep. She found herself grasped forcefully in his arms, as if he would never let her go, clamped against the solid wall of his bare chest. His shirt flapped open at his sides, the perspiration covering his upper body seeped into her own flimsy nightgown, beneath the unpleasant scent were the vague tones of his spicy cologne. Shockingly and with some embarrassment her body reacted blatantly to it and his proximity.  She fought against, her natural reactions to him as his arms tightened around her, Hermione could do no more than put her arms around him, her limbs moving of their volition to hold and soothe him. Uttering words, she had no clue of, much as you would a distressed child; her hands gently circling the soaked shirt, which clung across the taught muscles of his back, this time the tension caused by anxiety. 

Against her own rigid body, she began to feel his slacken, his cries and moans quietening, and his breathing, whilst still a little shallow, returning almost to normal.  How long they remained like that she had no idea, but gradually his weight became heavy against her and Hermione realised he must have fallen back into a proper sleep. As gently as she could, she lowered him back against the pillows, extracting herself carefully from his embrace. Smoothing his hair back from his face, Hermione noticed whilst still looking uncharacteristically scruffy, it at least looked less pained, more peaceful. She sat watching him for a few minutes, a half an hour maybe more, Hermione lost all track of time, making sure that he didn’t fall back into his troubled sleep. Under different circumstance she might have made herself comfortable in the chair by the side of his bed and remained there, but she wasn’t sure he would take to kindly to finding her there in the morning, and she didn’t really feel like explaining the string of events to Draco, who had obviously slept through the entire thing.

Carefully stretching across she picked up her wand from the nightstand She rose quietly and as cautiously as she could from the bed, taking once last look at the sleeping man.

“Somnabulus” She said quietly, a gentle incantation which in her absence would ensure that Lucius remained sleeping peacefully and without any further distressing nightmares.

She was about to turn and leave when she raised her wand once more, uttering a few more hushed words, she cleansed his body and hair of the fright induced sweat and stale Firewhiskey. With any luck by the time he awoke the next day, it would all be muddled in an alcoholic blur.

 


	34. A Simple Solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank yous as always, apologies as always, and of course I hope you are still enjoying......

 

Hermione’s sleep became fitful on her return to her own room, she was the one who kept waking in sweat, straining hers ears for any sounds of distress that her charm might not have counteracted. Even before this, all she could think of was Lucius Malfoy, now her concerns had increased tenfold. Her already overactive brain was awash with recriminations, not to mention questions.

Why hadn’t Draco gone to his father was paramount in her mind. Surely he must have heard him calling out, his room must be closer than hers. But it wasn’t Draco she blamed, it was herself, over and over. At 12 years old she’d had the courage to stand up to the dark wizard, but at 20 it had failed her miserably, and she had left him alone and obviously vulnerable.

Admittedly, when she had left the hotel, he hadn’t looked as if he was about to come apart at the seams, quite the reverse in fact, but he had been angry, very angry. He had been ashamed of himself, deprecatingly so, this was never a good sign and Hermione chastised herself for not seeing that, or picking up on it better. She couldn’t get over her own stupidity, or her naiveté. Even angrier at herself, she gave up any pretence of trying to sleep and once again got out of bed.

It was a little after 5am, despite the disturbance to the latter part of her night, she had initially fallen asleep quite quickly, so wasn’t actually suffering too much from sleep deprivation, just about everything else, but not lack of sleep.  Unwilling to disturb the house elves at such an early hour, she slipped on some clothes and quietly went downstairs. Fortunately, Draco had pointed out the kitchen, so she would make herself a much needed cup of tea and go and sit in Narcissa’s elegant sitting room, hopefully it would be a nice day and she could watch the sun come up. It would be good to enjoy the peace and solitude for a while, before asking Miffy to fetch _the young master,_ at a more respectable hour.

Just as Hermione had hoped, the kitchen was totally deserted, it was also extensive, taking her some time to find everything she needed for even a simple cup of tea, it might have been easier after all, to ask Miffy, but by the time she had the steaming cup in her hand, Hermione was at least satisfied with one of her achievements.  Soundlessly wandering back to what was Narcissa’s sitting room, Hermione cast an incendio into the dormant fireplace. She curled up in a large, high back chair, which looked out over the gardens; at this time of year, they were still shrouded in darkness, but hopefully it wouldn’t be too long before the dawn started to break and she would be able to see them properly.

Her tea was delicious, piping hot and not too milky, just as she had done the previous evening, she had added a little extra sugar for sustenance, Hermione had a feeling she was going to need every bit of energy she could muster today.

Alone in the room, she had time to nosey around and to appreciate its true beauty.  She’d seen Draco’s mother once maybe twice, she always looked extremely elegant; Hermione’s own mother would have described her as a classy woman, and that was certainly reflected in the décor of this room and quite possibly the bedroom in which she had slept.  She imagined a lot of the items in the room were heirlooms, passed down over centuries from both the Black’s and the Malfoy’s, but there were a lot of little personal touches in the room, things that perhaps Narcissa had collected from trips with her family. Then of course there were the family photographs which proudly adorned various surfaces. Narcissa Malfoy must have left in a hurry to have left some of these behind, but then perhaps she wanted no reminders of her husband.

There were several pictures of Narcissa and Lucius together, some before they’d had Draco, they both looked very young, younger possibly than Hermione was now, and some much later, at various functions, clearly very much the society couple. She laughed at a picture of Draco as a baby, a typical baby photograph, the tiny infant not more than six months old, naked on a rug, and already perfecting the infamous Malfoy scowl.  Another showed him with his father, it must have been taken around the time of their first term at Hogwarts. Draco looked exceedingly proud of his Slytherin uniform, Lucius was as elegantly dressed as ever, in full robes, clasping his cane and looking as if he had a nasty smell under his aristocratic nose. They were happy times despite, what was to come.

Seated in the high back chair once more, Hermione gazed out of the window, a tiny chink of daylight was just about visible on the horizon, a minute shard of bright blue amid the blackness. She studied it carefully watching as it gradually got bigger, totally mesmerised at this truly remarkable phenomenon of nature.  The fire crackled cheerfully once more, curled in the comfortable chair, Hermione must have dozed off. When she opened her eyes, the morning had fully broken, she could hear Draco’s voice from outside the room, before the door opened and he came in followed by a rather anxious looking Miffy.

“I told you, she would be in here Miffy, there was no need to worry.”

The little creature tugged painfully on her ears, her huge eyes wide with fear.

Hermione felt bad yet again. “Oh Miffy I am sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you, I woke very early, I didn’t want to disturb anyone, so I came in here.”

The little elf’s eyes widened yet further. “Miss Hermione does not need to apologise to Miffy, I thought I had misplaced you. Miffy is glad you are here and will fetch tea.”

Hermione would never get used to house elves, she looked at Draco, who seemed rather amused by the interaction.

“Fetch toast too Miffy, lots of butter and jams and things.”

“Yes Master Draco, of course.”

The little elf was gone with a sudden pop and Draco slumped into the chair opposite Hermione.

“How did you sleep Granger?”

Hermione knew Draco would ask the question, and had pondered her response a couple of times, uncertain as to whether she should be truthful with him about her late night encounter with his father.

“I fell asleep very quickly actually, such a comfortable bed, and it had been a long day, well a long week actually.” She rambled on a bit.

“Something woke me up in the night.” She watched for some sort of recognition on the young wizard’s face, but there was nothing.

“I thought you might have your own version of a Peeves, or Moaning Myrtle.” She went on, adding a touch of humour to try and draw him out.

“Well this house has plenty of ghosts Granger, but none of them actual spirits, but I wouldn’t know about things that go bump in the night. When I was a child my parents had lots of parties, they went on until the early hours, my room was warded against outside noises. I am a bit of a light sleeper, so as I got older I left the wards up. Hence why you have to send an elf for me.” He grinned sheepishly at Hermione.

She was oddly relieved that he had a good reason for not going to his clearly distressed father in the dead of night, but also that he hadn’t actually heard him at all, she wasn’t entirely sure how he would have coped with the situation.  Distracted once more, this time by the arrival of breakfast, he didn’t pursue his questions about Hermione’s sleep, instead they enjoyed the hot toast and preserves that the little elf had returned with, his appetite in no way diminished by the issue with Lucius.

“So Granger, where do we go from here?”

Hermione put the thin bone china cup back into its saucer and looked earnestly at Draco. “Truthfully Draco, I am not sure. It’s like I said yesterday, your father has to want our help or at least admit that there is something wrong. Without him doing either, it’s going to be an uphill struggle, we can’t just bully him.”

Draco looked crestfallen. He had hoped that the ever so smart Hermione Granger would come up with the solution that eluded him.

“I don’t mean to put up obstacles Draco, but, he knows you and I were never friends, how are we even going to explain my presence in this house. We don’t want to antagonise him before we even start?”

She could see Draco thinking about her question, the wheels in his mind turning furiously.

“We could tell him we are an item, I invited you down to spend the weekend.”

Hermione tried to contain her horror. There was no way that was going to work on any level, not least the fact that she had slept with Lucius, which of course she couldn’t tell Draco.

“I don’t think that will work, or is such a good idea.”

“Why not, my father owled you and you had lunch, I could have owled you and we had dinner and……hit it off.” He had the good grace to look a little uncomfortable at his own suggestion.

Now the cogs in her mind were turning frantically.

“That’s true Draco, but......well first and foremost it isn’t good to lie to someone in this position. You can get caught out and it makes them angry, and the situation much worse. Also we know that your father is struggling with certain things going on inside his head at the moment. But he certainly isn’t a fool, and to try and tell him there is something between you and I…….”

Draco shrugged his shoulders knowing full well Hermione was right, they were getting along very well all things considered, they could even laugh together, but there was no chemistry between then, and even as distracted as he was, it wouldn’t take Lucius Malfoy long to pick up on that and he would not appreciate being lied to.     

“Yeah of course Granger, you are right as always, so we have to come up with something else.”

Hermione had a sudden thought, well it wasn’t really a sudden thought, it was actually the reason why she had wanted to speak to Lucius Malfoy in the first place, those cogs started turning a lot faster.

“You know what Draco, I think the truth or a version of it, is the best way to go about this.”

Draco’s blue eyes were as wide as Miffy’s and just as alarmed. “The truth you are kidding right, tell my father we think he is crazy and…….”

“Draco, your father is not crazy, he is having trouble dealing with some issues, but we are not committing him to St Mungo’s anytime soon.” Her tone was a little sharp and she saw the surprise in Draco’s face.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, I just hate labels, especially when they are bad ones.”

The sun was streaming through the French doors, and Hermione was starting to feel in need of some fresh air.

“How about you show me the gardens and I will explain what I mean and how I think we can get this to work. I will need to speak to Kingsley Shacklebolt, but I can’t see it being a problem.”

“I am not sure Granger, I don’t want everyone knowing that there is something wrong with my father, you know how people talk.”

Hermione put a reassuring hand on Draco’s arm, she knew Kingsley would not be a problem, ironically her plan, such as it was, was something she had mentioned in a previous conversation with the Minister for Magic, when she was explaining what she did, and how she intended using those skills in the magical world. She was certain the virtual carte blanche he had given her in relation to her job, would stretch to some _research_ on such an interesting subject, especially if that subject was willing to talk to her. The last part might take a little more work but Hermione felt confident she could do it.

Wrapped up against the cold, which still chilled the morning air, she and Draco strolled around the gardens. In an easy, almost companionable gesture, she slipped her arm through his as they walked across some of the more uneven paving. The gardens were stunning, and Hermione found it easy to understand why Draco’s mother loved them so much. Even though it was just before spring set in properly, the grounds were still resplendent with an array of early blooming flowers, golden daffodils tipped their trumpets in the slight breeze. A mass of brightly coloured tulips vied their heads for supremacy and the air was filled with the scent of hyacinths and of course narcissus, it was joyous to behold. The cold, the beauty and smell cleared Hermione’s head and for the first time she could really think clearly about Lucius Malfoy and what came next.  She stopped at a small seat at the end of the walled garden and sat down, Draco followed suit.

“Right I need to tell you a couple of things before we go any further.” Hermione put her gloved hand over Draco’s. “I don’t want to sound patronising in any way but if you don’t understand then tell me and I will try and explain more clearly, you know what I’m like.”

The young blonde nodded his head listening intently. Hermione had to smile, she didn’t think she had ever known Draco Malfoy pay quite so much attention to anything. 

“When I met with Kingsley Shacklebolt about doing this job, as you know it wasn’t really an official position. Kingsley created it for me, because he thought it would benefit our world.”

She paused looking at Draco, she didn’t want to over complicate things, but she didn’t want him thinking, that she thought he was an idiot. He nodded his affirmation and she continued.

“As it was a new role, I got to define the parameters, I suppose you could say I could do what I liked, within reason. I had my own ideas, what I wanted to do, and how it would all work. Kingsley has always supported me, and as you know those ideas included weeks at St Mungo’s and Azkaban.”

Again Draco nodded.

“Well at the same meeting, I also mentioned that, it was a shame that my research could not be more extensive, that there were many people who I would like to have been able to talk to, to understand which would have really benefited my work.”

“So why didn’t you?” Draco asked suddenly. “Did Shacklebolt not allow it?” He suddenly looked defeated again, clearly wondering what the point was.

“No Draco, the Minister actually thought it was an excellent idea, he was all for trying to understand anything first hand. The issue was all of those people were dead. Professor Snape, Sirius Black, even the Dark Lord himself, they would have all made excellent study subjects.”

She was very careful with what she said next. “When I met your father at the Ministry Event, it occurred to me that, he too would make a good subject, all the experiences he had been through, including the stay in Azkaban….”

“You baited him!” Draco exclaimed, but oddly did not look angry.

Hermione was a little taken aback by his remark and his reaction, taking advantage of his positive response, but still keeping it concise.

“In a way yes. I think I was testing the water more than anything, seeing how he would react. I thought he was just being polite when he said it would be nice to talk some more. Then you came along and asked me to talk to him, and then lo and behold he owled me. Everything kind of fell into place.”

“Before it all blew up.”

“Yes, before Rita Skeeter stuck her evil two galleons in.”

“Granger I am not good early in the morning, so put this in simple terms for me. How does this help with my father and the current situation?”

Hermione was happy Draco was with her so far, and did not seem in the least bit concerned by what she had told him. She had been a little cagey with some of her information, but she had not lied to him, omitted the **_odd_** thing, but technically that was irrelevant.

“OK, fair enough. The plan is to get your father quite simply to talk to me.” She smiled at him, looking more than pleased with herself.

Draco looked at her in stunned silence, that was it, after everything, she was just going to get his father to talk, he thought even he could have managed that.

“I know what you are thinking Draco, but listen we have to start somewhere, I need your father to want to talk to me. This might not even work, but if I flatter your father’s ego, fragile as it is at the moment, and I tell him it’s Ministry business, that Kingsley would deem it a great personal favour, if he were to spare me the time, he might just open up to me, even a little bit could just set the ball rolling. Hey Draco as you said to me, what do we have to lose?

Draco studied the young witch, it might seem like a simplistic idea, but she certainly had a point. There was nothing his father enjoyed more than feeling important, especially to the Ministry, getting himself back in their good books and feeling paramount to something that was going on would certainly appeal to Lucius Malfoy.

“You know what Granger; I think you know my father a lot better than you think already. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think it would be a good idea if you could get Shacklebolt to _suggest it_ to my father. He will deem it much more important coming from him than you.”

Hermione flushed at the throw away remark about knowing his father, she knew his father a lot better than he realised, but she reigned in her thoughts, determined that this time this would remain totally professional, there would be no personal interferences.

“No offence taken, Draco I couldn’t agree more, that’s why I said I needed to speak to Kingsley. He stopped by only this week to say his door was always open, well first thing on Monday morning I am going to be walking through it.”

She gave Draco a reassuring smile, she might not feel entirely confident about her abilities with Lucius, but she felt happier that she had a plan, and could at least make some headway.

 

 

Lucius had woken with the mother of all hangover’s. His head was pounding and his stomach was churning, his mouth felt, urgh, he didn’t even want to think what his mouth felt like, it tasted disgusting. But despite all of this he felt oddly refreshed. He didn’t remember bathing or washing his hair before retiring the previous evening, he still wore the same clothes, so he couldn’t have. Clearly not as drunk as he thought, he must have performed a cleansing charm before passing out.  He also must have woken at some point during the night and finished off the glass of Firewhisky he had left there, as this morning the glass was empty.

He’d had some strange dreams too, what he could remember of those anyway, he vaguely recalled a nightmare, but it had turned to a pleasant dream, just as it always did when he had been drinking heavily. The delightful Miss Granger had again come to him in sleep, soothing away his nightmare, appearing like some angel in the night, ethereal in a silky thin gown, she had held him in her arms, telling him she was there, and had gently rubbed his back and soothed his hair.  She had smelt so good and felt so soft, and so real.  His body very half-heartedly tried to stir at the thought of her close against him, her bare flesh against his sweaty body. Hmm that was odd, how come he had felt sweaty when she had held him, if he had cleansed himself before retiring? Dreams were always muddled, he told himself gingerly rising from his bed and walking to the window.

The early morning sunshine was streaming through the long paned window, and Lucius screwed his eyes up against the brightness, his head throbbing in protestation.  He rubbed his fingers over his bristled chin, could he really be bothered to shave today? He remembered it was Saturday, he had nowhere to go, nothing to do, so no, he really couldn’t be bothered, he had got out of bed, the way he felt at the moment that was effort enough.  

His red rimmed, eyes noticed a movement in the gardens below. No one usually went into the gardens this early, not since Narcissa had left anyway. Two figures walked amongst the early blossoming flowers, he could clearly see his son, he was talking to someone, she was holding his arm as they strolled easily through the pots and trellises. They stopped and sat, Draco still obscured his view of the young woman. Obviously his son, had brought someone home for the night, it was far too early for anyone to have travelled to Wiltshire, a little fatherly pride ebbed through Lucius’ veins. He must have been totally out of it last night not to have heard him come home or anything else come to that.  An envious lustful smile curled the dark wizard’s lips, “good for Draco”, he thought remembering his own recent encounter with Hermione Granger, his body stirred once more at the recollection, a body still laced with alcohol, stopping the stir from becoming anything more.

The stirring and the smile on his lips perished instantly, anger and disbelief rushing through him as Draco sat down next to the young woman, Hermione Granger.


	35. Honi Soit Qui Mal Y Pense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All I will say about this chapter is, the title is the motto of the Order of The Garter and translated it means, evil be it to him who evil thinks .......enjoy

 

“I think it’s best if I go back to London as soon as possible Draco. I have some things to finish off and a report to complete for the Minister. I would also like a bit of time to prepare what I am going to say to him on Monday.”

She could sense the tension in the younger Malfoy, not sure if it was due to her intention to leave or the fact that Kingsley Shacklebolt would not be as enwrapped with her idea as she hoped. 

“Don’t worry Draco, I am sure that Kingsley will be fine. I will ask him to speak to your father as soon as possible and I will be back before you know it.”

To her utter surprise she found herself in the somewhat awkward embrace of Draco Malfoy, clearly it was something he didn’t make a habit of, and certainly not with her: “Thank you. I real…..”

“Draco, I didn’t know that you had a guest this weekend. Hermione how delightful to see you again.”

The voice behind them all but drawled, annunciating every syllable in her name.

She and Draco had practically sprung apart, turning simultaneously, to of course, come face to face with the Master of the house himself.  

Hermione’s heart raced in her chest, at the brushed silky sound of his voice. The smile on her lips faltering as she noticed the icy grey chips his eyes had narrowed into.  His words and their calculatingly dangerous tone, slowly sinking in, realising how her embrace with Draco must look to him.  Draco himself, looked like Lucius had cast an immobulus charm on him, clearly not expecting his father to appear. 

Lucius looked nothing like the tormented man she had encountered in sleep a few hours earlier; he certainly bore no visible effects of either his nightmare or of his drinking.  Proficiently clean shaven, his hair once more, its sleek immaculate self, it was neatly tethered in a small strand of black ribbon, like the one she had removed a few days before, Hermione felt a small rush of heat, at the intimate recollection.  He was dressed from head to foot in black, a stark contrast against his pallid skin, and in a remarkably Muggle ensemble, of sharply pressed trousers, extremely well-polished boots and a soft turtle neck sweater.   As he moved closer, his ever present cane clicked against the paved slabs, unlike on their previous encounter, Hermione found the sound, chilling.

His cold, grey eyes glittered dangerously, as they drifted from his son to her, his mouth curved in a disconcerting half smile.

Hermione was immediately reminded of what this man once was, what indeed he was capable of, was still very much capable of.  But she refused to be intimidated, she had allowed him to do it to her, the previous weekend and look what had happened. She squared her shoulders, feeling Draco stiffen anxiously beside her. She toyed with taking his arm, but she felt that would be pushing it just a bit too far. Instead she fixed a warm smile and greeted the Lord of the Manor.

“Good morning Lucius, its lovely to see you too.”

She tried to keep her voice as calm and assured as possible. Reminding herself of that little mantra that had got her through the night of the ministry event, politeness and professionalism. Then of course, she had not had the added intimate complication of having slept with the man.

“Alas, I am not spending the weekend, but Draco was kind enough to ask me to stay for the night after my long journey from the ministry yesterday evening.”

She had become something of an expert at reading Lucius Malfoy’s face, noticing a flicker of curiosity lighten those frosty grey chips, at her mention of the Ministry.

Draco smiled first at Hermione, and then very nervously at his father, but he said nothing.

“I am sure that was most gracious, if a little out of character, for my son.”

Clearly for the purposes of intimidation, the dark wizard took another step closer to his son and Hermione, his cane once more making that unsettling clicking sound against the cold stone. He moved with catlike grace, reducing the barrier of space between them. Hermione could feel his daunting presence all but seeping into her. She also felt that feisty, defensiveness heating her blood. Just as she had done with Harry all those years ago, a tad ironic that it should be the same protagonist, even more ironic that it was his own son she was defending this time around.

“On the contrary Lucius, one might be inclined to say, like father like son.”

His brows rose sharply, before meeting in an irritable frown. Hermione really was pushing her luck; despite her somnabulus spell, she knew the dark wizard had had a disturbed night, she was also more than well aware he had consumed a considerable amount of alcohol. Lucius Malfoy was not the most even tempered of men, at the best of times, these two added ingredients would hardly be helping the mix, nor would the hangover she suspected he might be nursing, but hiding very well.

“I am more than certain, you would have been equally hospitable to a weary traveller. And…. your invitation to lunch last week? Whilst most gracious, would definitely be deemed, out of character, especially for me.”

Hermione noticed the familiar flaring of his nostrils and his eyes darkening to a flint like gleam, clearly he had not shared any details of their lunch date with his son, and from the look on his face was surprised that she had. His lip curled and he looked for a moment, as if he were about to retaliate. Hermione jumped in quickly, pre-empting him and keeping the momentum going.

“That however I might add, was purely pleasure……...” Her subtle accentuation of the last two words was followed by a cleverly placed pause, watching the conflicted emotions that danced across Lucius’ face. Behind the anger, she noticed a little flicker of gratification, tinged with apprehension, possibly as to what else she might reveal in his son’s presence, it gave her a very small sense of, well not exactly power, but certainly the upper hand.

“You do not consider Draco…... pleasure?” He too subtly accentuated the word, but his tone was taciturn and unemotional, bringing his already nasty remark, to an extremely low level.

Whilst happy to verbally duel with him, Hermione refused to fight: “My assignation with your son was _purely business_.” She smiled overly sweetly, refusing to justify herself to him any further.

She cast a quick glance at Draco, who was looking decidedly embarrassed and incredibly uncomfortable, he seemed unable or unwilling to speak. Deciding to leave her remark at that, she wondered if Lucius would push her any further.

 “But of course it was my dear.”  Came the sardonic, haughty riposte accompanied by a derisive sneer that she had not seen in a long time.

Despite the tension, gravity even, of the situation Hermione found a small burble of laughter twitching in her gut. The words so much more befitting of the gossiping Ginny Weasley than, the aristocratic Lucius Malfoy. She desperately supressed the urge to laugh out loud and voice her comparisons to her long-time friend. Laughing at the former Death Eater would be fool hardy enough at this moment in time, comparing him to a woman, worse still a Weasley, really was dicing with too much.

Hermione refused to allow this to go any further, if for no other reason than she needed to keep Lucius on side, antagonising him any further would just make life a lot more difficult going forward.  Whatever he thought was going on between her and Draco was all in his own imagination. Hopefully he would come to realise that soon enough, that her meeting with his son, had indeed been purely business.  She gave him a sly smile; her warm brown eyes meet that piercing silver gaze head on.

 “Honi soit qui mal y pense Lucius.”  

She could see the anger level rise visibly, his nostrils flaring more than ever, his eyes narrowing to barely above silver slits.  There was no way a man of Lucius Malfoy’s education did not know the meaning of the phrase she had just quoted at him, even if the vacant look on Draco’s face meant he had no idea what she had just said to his father. 

“Now I don’t wish to be rude, especially after your more than gracious hospitality, but I really must get back to London, I have two meetings first thing on Monday, and as I was just saying, I have done nothing for either.” She gushed a little overdramatically for effect, glossy over the icy look on Lucius’ face.

“Draco thank you **so** much letting me stay, I really don’t think I could have done another long journey this week.”

This time she hugged him; her action purely for Lucius’ benefit, her embrace of his son, simply, a friendly thank you gesture, nothing more, let him think what he wanted to, for now.

“Oh think nothing of it Granger, I err…I was….” Finally, he found his voice, all be it a little unconvincingly. Lucius cold grey eyes widened, viewing him with suspicion.

“Lucius, it really was very nice to see you again. And I am certain, I will see you again very soon.”

“Hermione.” Reigning in his anger, Lucius nodded curtly, but politely, his grey eyes darting once more between his son and the young witch. 

There seemed nothing between them, no sparks, no chemistry of any kind, nothing but an odd friendship, which appeared to have sprung up out of nowhere. She certainly hadn’t mentioned anything to him the previous weekend, but then all things considered, Draco hadn’t featured very much at all.

The little green eyed monster of jealously was dancing in his blood, fuelling a quiet rage which simmered away within him.  Its tempo increasing as she moved passed him, Draco at her side, his hand at her back guiding her down the uneven path to see her off.

In the cold air, her gentle, soft perfume filled his nostrils, even in a garden full of scented flowers it was distinctive. He was oddly reminded of his dream from the previous evening; flashes of a hideous nightmare, suddenly flooded his brain, made his head throb still further. He remembered waking up, he was sweating; he hadn’t bathed or used a cleansing charm at all, but…. He remembered reaching for the Firewhiskey on the night stand and falling back into another fitful sleep before, his nightmare had turned into a dream and she had come to him. He remembered how her caring hands had soothed him, her warm skin had brushed against him and her gentle fragrance calmed him. Lucius watched her go, a very strange notion filling his head.  

 


	36. Meeting With The Minister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter might be subtitled ..... what Hermione did next.......enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks etc for lovely comments and kudos. I am so pleased you are all enjoying this

 

By the time she arrived at the Ministry on Monday, Hermione, felt more on edge, than she had done following her night in Azkaban. She never thought she would ever hear herself say this or even think it, but she was anxious to get back to Malfoy Manor.

Her worries for Lucius, went without saying. But after Saturday morning’s little display, she was also concerned for Draco, she knew Lucius would never harm his son, from the temper displayed in some of those baby pictures she had seen; if Lucius Malfoy had not hexed his son by now, he never would. But attempts at humour aside, Lucius mood swings could escalate, especially if the incident with Ronald was anything to go by, and alone in that huge house, Draco was actually more than a little vulnerable. 

She was also nervous about her conversation with Kingsley, she felt sure the Minister of Magic would endorse her plan, but with all the distractions in her head she wanted to make sure she put her case appropriately to him.  She had lost count of the conversations she had had with herself in the mirror on Sunday, role playing her interaction with the colourful wizard.

Arriving very early, she immediately wrote an interdepartmental memo to the Minister, requesting a few moments of his time, today, when of course it was convenient.  A little after 9am Hermione received a cheery reply from Kingsley Shacklebolt telling her to pop along as soon as she liked, that she would be a delightful start to his morning. Hermione wondered if he might feel the same way after she had spoken to him.

The door had opened as Hermione approached, a beaming Minister waiting to greet her.

“Hermione, twice in only a few days, I am torn between worried and delighted.” His big brown eyes looked concerned, despite the smile that lit his round face.

“You did say your door was always open Kingsley, I am cheekily taking advantage of that offer.” She returned his smile, hoping she looked a lot more confident than she felt as this moment.

“Well don’t take this the wrong way but you are far more pleasing sight than, the assistant Head of Magical Law Enforcement, with whom I should be meeting now. Apparently, he had a nasty encounter with a couple of Mandrakes in his potting shed at the weekend and is indisposed.”

The Minister’s out and out laughter was infectious, she didn’t dare ask what had happened, remembering Neville Longbottom’s similarly unpleasant happenstance with the nasty little plants back in their second year at Hogwarts.

“Please sit, let’s have some tea, it’s not often my week starts off at a pace that allows me to indulge in such pleasantries.”

She willingly accepted both of the Minster’s offers. Hermione loved his office, often quite distracted by the artefacts she found herself surrounded by, colourful reminders of the places he had visited, and strange gifts from various magical minsters around the world. It was a bit like a Muggle museum.

“So Hermione what brings you to my office, so early on a Monday morning? Nothing frivolous I am sure.”

Hermione pretended to look a little hurt by his suggestion that she was always so serious, even if he was actually, as always, quite right.

“Well I won’t beat about the bush Kingsley; I need your help.”

“My help!” Even the Minister for Magic was a little taken a back, whilst a lot older and more experienced than the young witch, for her to come to him to enlist help was quite a surprise.

“Most decidedly nothing frivolous then. If it is anything to do with your work Hermione, I am not sure how I can assist, you know you always have my full support, but your sphere of expertise is far outside of mine.”

Hermione was delighted to hear those words; they gave her courage to continue.  She also knew the Minister’s penchant for getting to the point, and quickly!

“Well Kingsley it is very much related to my work, and the current subjects that I am working on, but this is more of a diplomatic issue. One which I feel certain you will be able to assist with.”

“Now Hermione I am truly intrigued, flattered too, although I am not sure how much of a Wizarding Diplomat I am.”

This was going better than she had hoped, and totally not as she had planned, all those conversations and roles plays she had done over the weekend, none had resembled this in the slightest. She didn’t want to detract from her main aim, or even the point too much, but she felt a little aide memoire wouldn’t go amiss.

“Do you recall our conversation, when you offered me the job here, about understanding what I did and how I wished I could have spoken to certain people to even get a better understanding myself.”

“I do indeed Hermione, I recall finding the concept both fascinating and beneficial to us all in many ways.”

Music to Hermione’s ears, she carried on quickly, making a little light of the conversation, all the while driving towards her ultimate goal. “Yes I was sadly lacking in _test subjects…._ However,”

She gave Kingsley a winning smile, watching as his expressive face became even more interested.

“You have someone in mind?” He asked shifting forward in his seat, his colourful robes rustling at the sudden movement.

Hermione was delighted with Kingsley’s interest and it would appear his evident excitement.

“I do; it came to me last week when I was in Azkaban. Sitting in a cell all day, certainly gives you time to think, about all manner of things. One of which was the people I knew who had spent time here, mostly of course no longer with us, with the exception of Hagrid and Lucius Malfoy.”

The Minister regarded Hermione sagely, he doubted his diplomatic skill, what there was of it, would be needed with the gentle half giant, gamekeeper and Professor at Hogwarts, who of course Hermione knew very well herself. Which of course left the dark wizard and former Death Eater.  He could see exactly where she was going with this, and intrigued as he was, at both the idea and the possible outcome. He was not entirely sure he was happy with Hermione talking to Lucius Malfoy about his time in Azkaban, or poking around inside his dark mind at all, come to that.

Hermione saw the flicker of apprehension in his dark eyes.

“Hermione you know you have my backing when it comes to your work, and I know talking to people is invaluable, but I have to say I have my reservations about this.”

He had said reservations, Hermione told herself, he hadn’t said no. Hermione decided a different track was in order: “In what respect Kingsley, perhaps I can alleviate your concerns.” 

“I suppose in reality, I should not fear for a young woman who stood and fought against Voldemort, took on Death Eaters in the Department of Mystery’s, let alone spent a night in Azkaban herself. But, well this is Lucius Malfoy we are talking about.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt knew that determined look on Hermione Granger’s face only too well. He could put up as many excellent reasons why she should not do this, as he could think of, and he knew she would counter every one with an intelligent logical reason as to why she should. 

In truth he was curious as to what she would get out of the former Death Eater, but he was still worried. He knew Lucius Malfoy was a changed man, he himself had borne witness to that, but he had also borne witness to the loss of temper he had displayed, only last week with Ronald Weasley. In all fairness the young Weasley boy had not been without blame, but Malfoy’s reaction had been fast and a tad harsh. He didn’t want to chance something similar happening to Hermione. Although Kingsley imagined, Lucius Malfoy would end up on his aristocratic arse long before anyone would get the upper hand that quickly with her. For all his misgivings he also wondered what made the young witch think he would even talk to her…. Suddenly the sickle dropped, this was where she needed his help.

“I don’t think, for all of his past misdemeanours I would put Lucius Malfoy in Voldemort’s league, but I will confess to him being just as foreboding as a night in Azkaban.”

“I think I would be inclined to agree with that. So clearly Hermione, and knowing you as I do, you have not come to me unprepared or without a plan of some sort. So tell me the plan and what it is you need from this old wizard.”

“Well in practice Kingsley it is all very simply, and I won’t over complicate it, which Harry is always telling me off for. For the last few weeks, as you know I have been dividing my time equally between St Mungo’s and Azkaban. I had intended to fit in a visit to Hogwarts at some point but I think, this will be far more useful. If of course we can get Lucius Malfoy to agree, and of course when I say we, I mean you.”

The wily wizard chortled, his brown eyes twinkling, no one liked a cunning plan more than the current Minister of Magic.

“If you can get Lucius Malfoy to agree I thought I might spend some time talking to him, well for however long I can get him to, or as and when I run out of questions. I don’t think he will just agree to sit down and chat to me over a Butterbeer, but I do think if you ask him to do it, suggest it’s Ministry business and vital blah blah, butter him up a bit, flatter that massive ego of his.”

Kingsley smiled knowingly, a conniving look dancing across his face.

“Well as I mentioned last week, he is keen to get back on good terms with the Ministry and looking for something for young Draco to do. If I get him to help _us_ out with this, I might be able to do something for him in return. I will invite him along to a meeting, I have some free time later today, I am sure he will only be too pleased to accommodate me.”

“Kingsley that would be wonderful, if of course I am not messing with your day any more than I have done already.”

Hermione could see Kingsley was enjoying their little conspiracy, certainly a lot more fun than the meeting with the Assistant Head of Magical Law Enforcement.

“Think nothing of it, I have a feeling it might be a rather entertaining meeting. One which I feel that as The Head of Wizard Welfare & Rehabilitation, you should definitely be there for. I will have a little chat with Lucius first, perhaps informally over a late lunch, just to lay the foundations, put him at his ease, butter him up as you put it and then you could join us here. How does that sound.”

“It sounds perfect, thank you Kingsley, I really do appreciate this and of course you unrelenting support.”

“Nonsense, Nonsense. As have said I like to think of myself as a forward thinking Minister, but I genuinely believe that the work you are doing is of a huge benefit to not only us here, but also to our world in general.”

 

Hermione felt a little guilty as she left Kingsley’s office, yes this did very much form part of the job she was doing her at the Ministry, it was fully within her prevue as Head of Wizard Welfare and Rehabilitation, it was also something she had trained to do. However, a little part of her was doing this for personal reasons, although she had vowed those personal reasons would not interfere, not again.


	37. Meeting With Lucius Malfoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Hermione has met with Kingsley Shacklebolt and he has approved her plan, but how will Lucius react...........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Housekeeping as always, thanks for comments and kudos. My apologies for any errors grammatical or otherwise, I am sure the hawkeyes out there will point them out (thank you) :-) ........

 

After his peculiar and rather surprising encounter with Hermione Granger early on Saturday morning, Lucius Malfoy had had a very restless weekend. He had wavered from angry, slipping into hurt and then falling headlong into total confusion. The more he tried to make sense of what had happened, the more, angry, hurt and confused he became. 

After the strange nightmare, come dream that he had suffered somewhere between Friday night and Saturday morning, the dark wizard had avoided any more Firewhiskey, however with everything that was going on around him and in his head was unable to totally abstain, so he had uncorked a rather fine bottle of wine from the well-stocked cellar. The Nuits Saint Georges, was a much better vintage than the one he had ordered from the list at the Aurelia Imperial, none the less he found the heady, fruity flavours reminding him of that evening, of Hermione and it had a strangely cathartic effect on him.

Draco had avoided him; which gave rise to his anger once more and to his suspicions that there was more to Hermione’s visit than just business. Although as Saturday had slowly moved into Sunday, Lucius began to realise that his anger was based solely on the fact, that something was going on, he just didn’t know what it was, nothing annoyed Lucius Malfoy more than being kept in the dark. It also became very clear to the dark wizard that the weird sense of hurt that rushed through his veins was because, Hermione Granger had been in his house, but not as his guest. Thus the confusion started all over again, coming full circle.

Draco appeared for breakfast on Monday morning, a little later than usual, quite possibly hoping that his father had long since finished and left. Father and son shared polite, if rather strained conversation. Hermione’s name did not come up, not even when an owl arrived from the Ministry.

The large bird, carried a neatly addressed envelope which bore the distinctive Ministry logo on the front.  Both men watched and waited, anxious to see who the letter was for. It was Lucius who removed the cream parchment from its beak, noticing his name clearly embossed beneath the glittering M. His heart beat a little rapidly, his palm just a little sweaty as he noticed the equally familiar seal on the reverse, as that of the Minister himself. It was most unlike Kingsley Shacklebolt to message him in such an urgent fashion, wondering if this could be some belated consequence from the incident last week with the Weasley boy, or worse still something to do with Hermione. Not wishing to appear concerned in any way in front of Draco, Lucius summoned his house elf for more coffee. Tea was his usual beverage of choice, especially at breakfast, but with his lack of alcohol over the last couple of days, he needed something with a bit of a kick. The strong, specially imported coffee he had at the manor was just what he needed, even more so now. Taking a sip from the steaming, delicate cup, Lucius sliced open the envelope with the small, but very sharp butter knife.

His look of concern turning to one of intrigue as he read the contents, once, twice then again just for good measure, the contents taking a while to sink in.

Draco could tell from the look on his father’s face, that the owl was of decided interest to him, and clearly nothing derogatory.  He had, as Hermione, had suggested when he had escorted her to the apparition point on Saturday morning, given his father some space. Or as Draco thought of it, kept well out of his way.  He didn’t fully understand his father’s anger, but then he didn’t really fully understand his father, he would like to say at the moment, but alone with his father for the last few months, Draco had come to realise that there was a lot he didn’t know about his father, let alone understand. Hermione had assured the young wizard that as always with Lucius it was a supremacy thing, not knowing Draco had a guest, and especially that it was her, it undermined his control. Draco had bowed to her far superior knowledge, assuring the young witch, he would be giving his father plenty of space for a while.

Even in the same house, they could not see each other for hours on end, quite possibly days if they were clever. Draco had indeed taken full advantage of that, hoping that by breakfast on Monday, he would be in an improved frame of mind, or better still, left for a meeting somewhere.  Finding him still seated at the polished, elegantly set table was a little disconcerting, but Draco also remembered another piece of advice that Hermione had given him, well two actually. The first was carry on as you would do normally, as if nothing had happened, the second was do not provoke anything contentious. The first was a little difficult, Draco was still on edge after what had happened, the second was easy, he was all for keeping the peace. No way did he want to antagonise his father. It was in the spirit of the former, that Draco took a deep breath, and with hard won ease, addressed his father.

“Good news father? You look pleased.”

Draco smiled, all be it a little nervously at Lucius, relief flooding his veins as the older wizard nodded, a small smile lifting his own lips.

“Well I am not sure you would call it news exactly, but Kingsley wants to meet for a late lunch, says he would like _my valuable input with some important Ministry work.”_

Draco took a sip of his own coffee, knowing full well this had to be Hermione’s doing, part of that plan she had mentioned, he kept his face impassive but smiled indulgently at his clearly delighted father.

“Sounds very interesting father, and for Kingsley himself to ask and invite you to lunch. When?”

Lucius was once more reading the note in his hand, exceedingly happy that, it would seem he was being invited back into the inner circle of the Ministry, but also feeling a little sheepish, that perhaps this was in some way connected to Hermione’s visit, and that her meeting with his son was actually business related.  He pushed that aside, a silly notion, he chastised himself silently. Why on earth would the Minister of Magic share such confidences with someone like…...Hermione Granger. Her name itself answered that question.

He looked at his curious son, clearly he had asked him a question, but Lucius had been lost in his own thoughts, and not heard.

“Did you say something Draco?”

“Yes I was saying it sounded interesting and asked when the invitation was for?”

“This afternoon, he says, if I don’t have any other prior engagements.”

Lucius rose elegantly from the head of the table; picking up his cane which rested against the arm of the carver chair.

“I think I will be able to make it.” He said sarcastically, his day was hardly full.

Lucius looked at his son, he had once again returned to his coffee, his blue eyes were shinning over the top of the white china. He couldn’t help notice he looked a little; a little something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Not uncomfortable exactly, not really devious, but something. Lucius was more convinced than ever this had something to do with Hermione and her visit. That in turn made him feel uncomfortable, that he had doubted them.  Maybe he really was just being a little paranoid and it was all a coincidence. To be honest he wasn’t sure he cared what it was, to be invited to lunch at the Ministry was enough, to be asked by the Minister, for his _valuable input,_ really was his way back, he would certainly assist Kingsley Shacklebolt and the Ministry of Magic in any way that he could.

 

The Minster had arranged their late lunch in his private dining room adjacent to his office, and the two had enjoyed a leisurely and quite extensive meal especially for lunch. Kingsley Shacklebolt was a master of small talk, in addition to being well versed in all manner of current affairs, and they discussed a varying range of topics, from the Quidditch results at the weekend, to the Wizard Finance Conference taking place later that month in Switzerland.

Although he was more than happy to chat with the Minister on any subject he wanted, Lucius was getting a little impatient, whilst a keen follower of stocks and shares, and the Financial world, he doubted this was hardly what the Minister deemed _valuable input._

“I must apologise Lucius, it is good to talk about such things with a man such as yourself, and I could do so for hours, but I should really get on to the reason why I asked you here.”

Thank Salazar for that, thought Lucius, but nodded his head politely at Shacklebolt. “I must confess your owl certainly intrigued me, and of course I am flattered that you would request my assistance.”

“Well, to be honest Lucius, and I hope that this doesn’t sound offensive. There are very few people who have your first-hand knowledge or are in such a position to help.”

“Off course Kingsley, if there is anything I can do, as I have said you know you only have to ask.”

“I and the Ministry appreciate that Lucius, and will of course show our appreciation accordingly.”

A little ripple of pleasure coursed through Lucius, wondering just how appreciative the Ministry would be at his help. Monetary reward was irrelevant, Lucius Malfoy wanted the credence that went with once more being on good terms with the Ministry of Magic.

“I have to confess however, this might be a little difficult for you and we sincerely understand that.”

Lucius noticed the use of the word we, knowing instinctively he wasn’t referring to the Ministry.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was playing his cards very close to his chest, he didn’t want to tell Lucius Malfoy too much, he would leave that to Hermione, but he wanted to make sure that he was in no position to say no, or put up any resistance when the young witch joined them.

“Lucius, I like to think of myself as a very forward thinking Minister of Magic, encompassing new ideas, but in doing so, I know that they will, in the long run help out world survive and move forward.”

Lucius couldn’t help but think Shacklebolt sounded like he was campaigning for office, giving a political address, to an assembled rally. He none the less listened intently and with continued fascination.

“To be able to do all of that, I feel we must study the mistakes we have made in the past, understand them and learn from them.”

Lucius rubbed a long finger across his chin, contemplating the Minister’s words, whilst understanding what he meant, the dark wizard was not entirely sure where he came into this. 

“I am a firm believer, that we can only achieve true understanding from experience, first-hand knowledge as it were.”

“I agree Kingsley, I am all for experience, there is no substitute for it.”

“Good, good. This is where your valuable input comes in.”

Lucius was still confused. His valuable input he understood, but in relation to what, he still had no idea; Kingsley Shacklebolt was being most mysterious.  A knock on the door halted their conversation, the Minister called for the person on the other side to come in.

“Hermione, excellent, punctual as ever. Come in, come in. Do join us, help yourself to anything, there are a few rather nice little things left to nibble.”

With the Minster’s remark, Hermione found her eyes fall on the noble figure of Lucius Malfoy, her face instantly flushing. She quickly brought her mind back the task at hand, knowing exactly how nice it was to nibble on him, was not a distraction she needed right now, the meeting hadn’t even begun.

“I am fine thank you Kingsley. Mister Malfoy, a pleasure to see you again.”

In the professional environs of the Minister of Magic’s office, Hermione reverted to formality with Lucius.

“You too Miss Granger.” He rose chivalrously as she sat, matching her form of address.

“Lucius, I hope you do not mind, but I have asked Hermione to join us, for various reasons but first and foremost, as Head of Wizard Welfare and Rehabilitation, this is very much her field.”

The Minister of Magic watched the dark wizard’s responses carefully, any sign that there might be any issues and he would seriously reconsider, Hermione’s request.  He saw his silver gaze fall upon the young witch, but other than a slightly raised brow, he showed little or no reaction. Kingsley continued with his briefing, still carefully scrutinising Lucius Malfoy, for any adverse reactions.

“This is a new department, as such we have to ensure that it is as readily filled with the same amount information and records as all of the other well established areas. That we glean as much evidence as possible from as many sources as we can.”

Lucius was well aware that the Minister of Magic was studying him closely, after the incident with the Weasley boy last week, he couldn’t afford any more losses of temper or indications that he might not be in control.  He had to confess the arrival of Hermione had caught him off guard in more ways than one. Not least looking decidedly attractive and very professional in her prim work robes. It was lucky that Kingsley Shacklebolt was only concerned with his facial responses, his body already more than well aware of her, that distinctive fragrance of her stirring more than just his sense of smell. He shifted slightly in his seat.

“Hermione, perhaps you would like to explain a little more to Lucius. My knowledge is not as extensive as yours and, I am clearly waffling and making hard work of this.”

Hermione caught the Minster’s eye, twinkling knowingly but laced with serious intent, he was totally aware of what he was doing, purposely waffling a little more than he would normally to allow Hermione into the conversation.

Hermione recited her little mantra to herself once more. Determined that she would remain both exceedingly polite and utterly professional.

“Thank you Kingsley.” She took a deep breath, Lucius’ ever unsettling silver gaze unrelenting as she began to speak.

“I think you might be aware Mister Malfoy, since I took up my position here, I have been dividing my time between St Mungo’s and Azkaban.” Hermione knew what she had told Lucius, but she didn’t know what else he knew, she chose her words with care.

“I have been talking to the patients and to the inmates, trying to get a better understanding of them, of their feelings and of course how we go forward from there.”

She paused briefly, like Kingsley looking for even the slightest reaction from the dark wizard, his hand’s rested in his lap, his back was straight, and his face totally impassive. All the while he never took his eyes off her.

“I have spoken with Kingsley at length about this, and I feel that, because they are precisely that, current patients and inmates, I am not getting a clear picture. It would help me, and the Ministry if we could talk to someone, who had been through the experience, come out the other side.  Help us make things better and of course make them better.”

Finally, Lucius understood what they were asking of him, his blood ran cold, whilst his palms sweated, that awful feeling of nausea rose in his stomach, threating to reject his launch.

Hermione saw the change in Lucius, she had seen it before, all those little micro mannerisms that he fought so hard to control.  She knew how hard this was going to be for him, this was going to help her with her work of course it would, but she was really doing this to help him, she just couldn’t tell him that.

“Mister Malfoy.” Her tone was soft and gentle as she spoke. She was addressing Lucius, the man she had spent the night with, not Mister Malfoy the former Death Eater.

“I do realise that this is a lot to ask of you and how difficult it might be, if you do agree to help me, to help the Ministry then we can take it at your own pace, I have no constraints on my time. From a personal perspective I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you even considering it.”

Lucius Malfoy’s eyes went that strange shade of grey blue, her personal appeal clearly striking a chord, battering their way through that wall he had once more erected around himself.  Hermione glanced at Kingsley, there was no way he was going to push the man any further, feeling certain it might only antagonise him.  His words therefore came as a surprise to Hermione.

“Lucius, I am sure this is not what you expected when I invited you here for lunch. I must confess when Hermione and I were discussing how we, how she might gather more information, move forward, if there was anyone in a position to help us. I was more than a little reticent, dare I say uneasy at her suggestion.  But well I believe she has a point and I know you are keen to do all you can to help the Ministry these days.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt was a man after her own heart, he knew how to flatter and he knew how to work a situation.

“And Lucius, in my honest opinion, you really are the only person that could give us this valuable insight. Perhaps you would like more time to think about……...”

Lucius’ head was spinning almost as much as his stomach was lurching, his mouth had gone so dry he could hardly speak, the words slipping quietly from his lips.

“No….I do not need any more time to think.” His clipped aristocratic tones, cut through Kingsley deep baritone.

Hermione’s heart dropped like a stone, a No from Lucius meant no, there was no way she or even the Minister of Magic could force the issue. She would simply have to find another way or talking to him.

Lucius’ cold grey blue eyes drifted from Kingsley Shacklebolt to Hermione Granger, condescension etched on his face. He felt a little cornered, trapped even, but neither clouded his judgement. They both seemed genuine in their words and surprisingly, in their concern for his wellbeing. He did not need their pity; he did not want their sympathy, what Lucius Malfoy did want more than anything, was to get back into the good graces of the Ministry, he might not wield the influence or the power he once did, but who knew, in time even that might come. He wanted to secure a position for his son.  If this was what he had to do, if this was the price, then so be it, it was a small sacrifice and he had a lot to make up for.

He would have to talk about the darkest time in his life, the most shameful things that had happened to him, he of course could choose just how much he shared, as little or as much as he wanted, depending on the payoff.  He had managed it, all be it briefly with her before, ridiculously over lunch, he could do it again, only this time he would be in control, he would be on his guard, making sure he only revelled what he wanted. Lucius had promised himself he would not lie to Hermione, she was the one person he could be himself with, and he liked how that made him feel. Lucius Malfoy was a man always true his word, he would ensure that remained the case.

The difference being, this time he got to do it for his own gains. He was now just work to Hermione, part of her job, but he knew she would treat him with the reverence that came with it. In reality it seemed a small penance for his sins of the past.

“I don’t need more time to think about it, I will do it.”

h


	38. Just Eight Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Lucius has agreed, what now..............

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My continued thanks etc my continued apologies for those annoying errors that someone always notice :-), be they typos, a slip of the finger or something more glaring.....

 

Hermione exchanged a fleeting glance with Kingsley Shacklebolt, ever mindful of the fact the Lucius’ silver eyes were watching her intently.  Delighted and somewhat relieved as she was at his acceptance, she was still more than a little surprised at his willingness to _talk_ to her, she couldn’t help but wonder what the Minister of Magic had offered in return.

“Miss Granger.”

Hermione didn’t fail to notice the almost business-like tone that Lucius had adopted as he spoke her name or the hardening lines of his face.

“You mentioned that since taking up your position here at the Ministry, you had been dividing you time between Azkaban and St Mungo’s. I doubt you travelled back and forth to the Prison each day, can I therefore assume that your speaking to me, will necessitate you staying at the Manor?”

Hermione sensed the effort and control in Lucius voice as he spoke of Azkaban and felt for him, reassuring herself that she was trying to help him, this was all very much a front.  Professional as she tried to remain, especially here, she also felt that familiar little ball of heat start to roll through her body. It had of course been her intention to spend time at the Manor, although she hadn’t in all honestly considered staying at the house, it did however seem the sensible option. Hearing Lucius say it out loud and in front of the Minster seemed to put it in a very different context and the heat continued its rampage.  

Now she not only had Lucius Malfoy’s penetrative slate grey eyes fixed upon her, but the rather concerned dark brown of the Minister of Magic.  Despite the warmth flowing through her body, Hermione tried to keep cool, putting the onus very much on Lucius, and hopefully giving the illusion that this was not a concern at all.

“Well Mister Malfoy, it would certainly be the most beneficial and time effective way for us to meet and speak. But only of course, if it is convenient.”

At the moment, Hermione was more worried about Kingsley Shacklebolt’s reaction to this latest development, something told the young witch, despite their last encounter, Lucius Malfoy would have no issues with her staying at Malfoy Manor. 

“I agree Miss Granger, and it is more than convenient for me. However, I sense that perhaps Kingsley has some reservations about you staying at my home.”

Hermione couldn’t hide her surprise at Lucius’ words, that he too had sensed Kingsley Shacklebolt’s unease, she glanced anxiously at the Minister, hoping that her plan was not going to be scuppered at the last hurdle and by something so trivial.  The Minister’s eyes travelled thoughtfully between the two of them before he finally spoke once more.

“Lucius you are quite right; I am a little apprehensive about this. It would be remiss of me not to show a little concern, however, as I said to Hermione only the other day, I cannot fear for a young woman, who has done the things that she has.”

Hermione got the distinct impression his words were issued more as a warning to the dark wizard than anything else.

“I am also more than well aware of how things have changed. As I said before, I like to think of myself as a forward thinking man, taking all of this into account and in the spirit of reconciliation, I am willing to give my consent for this to go ahead in this way.”

Lucius liked the Minister’s use of the word reconciliation, it gave him more hope as to his future, not to mention Draco’s, with the Ministry. A little more reassurance could not hurt the situation.

“Kingsley, I can promise you that Draco and I will ensure that Miss Granger is well looked after at the Manor.  You are of course more than welcome to come by at any time, if you have any concerns whatsoever.”

Hermione began to feel her presence in the room was surplice to requirements, the two men discussing her as if she wasn’t there.

“Gentlemen.” She cast a bright smile at both of the wizards, curtailing their conversation. Directing her words firstly to the former Death Eater and then to her boss.

“Mister Malfoy, I have no doubt that your hospitality will be second to none and your manners will be as exemplary as they have been at our previous meetings.” Her words addressed to Lucius causing a very slightly raised brow and a glimmer of rather sad reflection.

“Kingsley, thank you for your concern, as always you know exactly where I am, so if you are worried in any way or need to contact me, please feel free to do so.” Any concern reflected in the Minister’s face was replaced by shrewd acceptance.

She bit back a smile, her words leaving both men in no doubt she was very much in control and had no worries as to what lie ahead. She wished she felt half way near as confident as she sounded. Both wizards however had the good grace to look just a little sheepish. 

Hermione was keen to pin Lucius Malfoy down, the thought sending an unexpected jolt of pleasure through her body, causing her to flush. Whilst the sudden reddening of her cheeks might have gone unnoticed by the Minister of Magic, from the rather curious light that flickered in Lucius’ eyes he hadn’t missed it. 

“Mister Malfoy, perhaps we could discuss at date?” Oh crap, of all the phrases to use, she rushed on quickly, but didn’t miss how his eyes changed to that fascinating silver blue colour, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly.

“That would be convenient.” Her mouth going very dry under his unrelenting scrutiny.

“I think Miss Granger, you would prefer we did this sooner rather than later, and I would be inclined to agree, before I have any second thoughts.”

“Would you have any objections to my travelling back to Wiltshire with you today?”

Hermione decided to strike whilst the iron was hot, the last thing she wanted was Lucius having any second thoughts. She watched his reaction carefully, it appeared they were back to a little cat and mouse once more, Lucius Malfoy very much that sleek panther waiting to pounce, but giving little away, but showing no surprise at her request.

“If the Minister is happy for you to do so, then I have no objections. Kingsley?”

The Minister of Magic once more cast his gaze between the two former enemies. Hermione as capable and professional as ever, the dark wizard impassive and unreadable. He couldn’t say happy was the word he would use, but he knew Hermione’s determination and he knew Malfoy’s keenness to once more be back in the Ministry’s good books. It wasn’t an ideal situation but he couldn’t say no.

 

On her first visit to her office, Hermione had stashed what she called a “go bag” in one of her desk drawers. A very small bag, with an extension charm, it housed everything she needed, should she be required to go somewhere in a hurry without having to go home and pack, in view of what had happened in the past, and the job she was now doing it might prove useful. Today it proved very useful; her equilibrium was already unbalanced, without having to endure the unnerving presence of Lucius Malfoy in her small flat, waiting for her to pack. A rather smug smile had tugged at her lips when she had told him she had no need to go home, she was all ready to leave when he was.

 

They apparated back to the Manor and for the second time in a few days, Hermione found herself once more in front of those daunting wrought iron gates, this time at the side of the master of the house. The gates immediately swung open, as did the ancient, well-worn oak of the front door as they approached, almost bowing to his arrival, his presence of course transcending all of the substantial wards with lightning speed.

Lucius hadn’t spoken to her since they had left the Ministry; there had been no mention of the weekend they had shared, there had been no allusion of their encounter the weekend just gone by, and there had been no discussion about the meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt. As they stood in the vast entrance hall of the Manor, Hermione realised it was also the first time they had been alone since that Sunday morning at the hotel, well whilst they were both awake that was, and she felt more than a little self-conscious, it seemed such a long time ago and yet it was little over a week.

So much had happened in those intervening days. Just eight days since she had been in this man’s bed.  Just eight days since she had savoured the potent taste of him. Just eight days since she had enjoyed his glorious hard body. Just eight days since she had revelled in the sheer masculine power of this man. As one day moved into two days, three into four she had begun to wonder if she had imagined it all. But as the sixth day had turned into the seventh and she had found herself in Lucius’ bedroom here at the Manor, his strong arms tightly wrapped around her, the almost indiscernible remnants of his cologne drifting into her senses, it all became very real once more. 

Hermione looked at the man standing before her, every inch the Lord of the Manor, his sheer presence dominating the space, which seemed to shrivel around him. He was close enough that she could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest with his even breathing, but not close enough that she could feel his warm breath against her own skin, Hermione shivered just a little bit. He looked exactly like the man she had met in Flourish and Blotts all those years ago. Dressed from head to toe in exquisite black and darkest purple tailoring. The heavy fabric of his travelling cloak was trimmed with fur, almost to the ground, it was adorned with two swirling snakes, their bejewelled eyes matching those of the cane he clasped firmly in his hands, gloved in soft leather.  His silky blonde hair hung loosely about his shoulders, almost totally unruffled by their recent apparition, it took every inch of willpower Hermione possessed not to reach out and stroke the one small strand which had fallen out of place.

Just eight days ago, she might have been in this man’s bed, she might have tasted his flesh, enjoyed his hard aroused body, but Lucius had sent her away, he had made it perfectly clear that it wouldn’t happen again. She would of course respect his wishes, even if she could see a certain amount of regret mirrored in his sad eyes.  She would not push him in any way, even if she got the feeling it would be relatively easy to do.  She reminded herself that, as far as Lucius was concerned, this was work, she was doing her job, and as such, she would treat him with the full respect her job decreed. All the while giving nothing else away as to why she was really here. 

Hermione suddenly found herself drowning in those beautiful silver grey eyes that watched her so intently, searching the harsh lines of his face, her big brown eyes drifted slowly to his beautiful but cruel mouth, how it had felt against her own……... Ginny and the little devil fought with politeness and professionalism and Hermione reminded herself sharply and silently that she was here to help, for all intense and purposes, on Ministry business. But still the ball of heat burned low in her belly and that little frisson of fear danced mercilessly along her spine, reminding her that this was Lucius Malfoy.  She reminded the little frisson of fear that…... “Fear of a name, only increases fear of the thing itself.”

Hmm it seemed to work a lot better when she was 12.


	39. Two Birds, One Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione's first official evening at Malfoy Manor in the company of the Lord and Master.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks for kudos and comments and usual apologies for any faux pas in whatever guise they might take.

 

Despite his eventual gain for assisting Hermione, Lucius Malfoy couldn’t suppress the apprehension which prickled within his body. Although he wasn’t entirely sure what he could actually attribute it to; what had happened in the past, and the fact that he would have to relieve some of it, no matter how selective or careful he was. What was happening right at this very moment, that Hermione Granger was now standing in the hallway of his home and this time as _his_ guest and at his invitation. Or quite possibly what might happen in the future, both the past and present very much influencing that. 

When Lucius had left Wiltshire for his meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt earlier in the day, he hadn’t considered how the day would end, not for one moment however, had he imagined it would be like this. That he would be returning home with the young witch; it, or rather she had given him little time to think and the dark wizard found his usually keen mind once more racing in a state of confusion, a little hurt and anger, he couldn’t quite control or totally understand, simmering away under the surface.

 A sudden sharp pop heralded the arrival of one of his house elves. Miffy appeared in the hallway, her huge blue eyes almost sparkling as they fell upon Hermione.

“Miss Hermione you are back, how…….”

The little elf tugged at her drab, tatty gown, catching sight of her master’s glacial stare, house elves were not to speak until they were spoken too, well certainly not in this house anyway.

Hermione noticed the instant change in her demeanour, and the look of fear that fell across her face. She might be forced to use the elves whilst under Lucius Malfoy’s roof but she would certainly not condone any poor treatment or allow them to be abused in any way.

“Miffy, it is nice to see a familiar face.” The tiny creature shifted in her discomfort, moving slightly away from her master, her overly large eyes not leaving him for a second.

Lucius’ own gaze shifted slowly from the elf to Hermione, her pretty, expressive face lit with defiance, just daring him to say something.  His grey eyes narrowed, once more drifting back to his house elf, his tone was haughty and stiff, but it remained surprisingly civil.

“I gather that Draco had Miffy look after you the last time you were here?”

“He did Lucius, and most delightful and helpful she was too.”

The elf’s eyes widened yet further at Hermione’s words, casting another anxious glance at her master.

Lucius was only too well aware of Hermione’s feeling’s on house elves, and how their _enslavement_ was antiquated and should be reviewed, it was a well voiced opinion she shared with many at the Ministry, it was touchy a subject and not one he wished to get into a debate or an argument about, especially now.

“Miffy you will look after Miss Hermione whilst she is here, assist her with anything she needs.”

“Yes Master.” The little elf’s voice was barely above a whisper as she responded to Lucius.

“I am sure the Young Master ensured she was comfortable on her last visit, so show Miss Hermione to the same room.”

Miffy nodded her head timidly, gesturing for Hermione to follow her.

Determined not to be deterred or intimidated in any way, Hermione smiled gratefully at the dark wizard.

“The room I stayed in on my last visit was quite lovely, thank you Lucius.” Her words to her host were courteous, but their exchange remained cordial, and more than a little wary. It was almost impossible to remember what they had shared, but her body remembered only too well, and a familiar pool of heat swelled low in her belly as gaze remained fixed upon his handsome face.

“You are welcome Hermione, dinner is usually served at 7pm, but I shall have it delayed by half an hour this evening, it will give you a chance to …… settle in.” He played the part of the gracious host with aplomb, his voice laced with the same cordiality as hers.

Hermione flushed slightly at his words and at her own recollections, but nonetheless thanked him once more, before following Miffy up the large central staircase.  She squared her shoulders and continued her ascent, she felt his piercing gaze at her back, watching every step she took, but she didn’t turn around, only as she entered the room she had stayed in previously, did she cast a surreptitious glance in Lucius’ direction. Surreptitious or not she still found her furtive glance, colliding with a steely grey one.  Quickly slipping into the room behind Miffy, she closed the door.

Hermione had managed to successfully navigate the first part of her plan, the trouble was it didn’t actually have a second part.  On arriving back in London, she had spent the remainder of her Saturday and most of the Sunday, preparing what she was going to say to Kingsley Shacklebolt, how she was going to get him to agree to letting her return to Malfoy Manor and talk to its Master, beyond that there really wasn’t much of a plan, essentially there was no plan at all.

Attentive and helpful as ever Miffy had asked Hermione if there was anything she could get for her, the little elf had almost smiled when Hermione had once again requested tea, returning moments later with a steaming brew, before vanishing with a loud crack.

Even with her cup of tea and in the peaceful solitude of her room, Hermione was finding it difficult to focus.  She cast her mind back to how she had prepared for and approached her first visit to Azkaban, her first week at St Mungo’s.  She hadn’t really known anyone at either institution, she had simply decided to chat with a few people and see how things went from there, it was only really on her second visits, that she had formed any kind of strategy. That undoubtedly wasn’t going to work here, she had only one person to talk to and that person would see through any subterfuge immediately.

“Think Hermione, think.” She chastised herself impatiently. 

She was still racking her brain, and talking to herself when another loud crack heralded the reappearance of Miffy, the elf announcing that it was time for dinner and that she needed to take Miss Hermione to the dining room. 

“Merlin’s beard is that the time Miffy, I haven’t changed or anything. Just give me a minute.”

The small creature looked horrified, obviously being late for dinner would not go down well with the Master and the last thing Hermione wanted to do was be late on her first evening or worse still get the poor elf into trouble.  It was hardly the Victorian era, she did not need to change as such for dinner, but then again this was Malfoy Manor, a house that seemed decidedly lodged in a very different time, a bygone era, with a very different set of values and proprieties. She could just imagine Lucius in full dress robes for his evening meal, she quickly dispelled the image of the Lord of the Manor at dinner, his powerful, well dressed frame, filling yet another room. In less than a minute she had swapped her work clothes for a black jersey wrap around dress, and was dutifully following Miffy in the direction of the dining room.

Thankfully they found the large elegant room empty, Miffy assured Hermione that the Master would not be long. She was about to ask if the Young Master would be joining them, but the timid elf vanished quickly, obviously before Lucius arrived, leaving her completely alone in the large extremely stylish room. Her question regarding Draco was silently answered in the form of the table setting; just two places were neatly and precisely set with an array of china, cutlery and glassware. Hermione swallowed hard, she had enjoyed her last two meals with Lucius Malfoy, but she had the distinct impression that this one was going to be very different and a lot more challenging.

“But only if you let it.” A little voice in the back of her head pointed out.

It was of course true; this was only going to be as difficult as she allowed it to be. For any of it to work, in any way, first and foremost Hermione had to take control, and keep control of the situation. She was here for all intense and purposes under false pretences, however, Hermione could be as cunning and devious as the next person.  She would do exactly what she had told both Kingsley Shacklebolt and Lucius Malfoy she was here to do, but she would work it to her advantage and in doing so, she would do exactly what she had promised Draco she would do. In her head, it was simple, in her head it made perfect sense, in practice…. well that would remain to be seen, she would just have to wait and see……….

“Two birds one stone” She told herself.

“I am sorry Hermione; did you say something?”

Lucius’ dulcet tones drifted across the room, Hermione turned to find him standing in the doorway, his presence, just as she had imagined, even without the full dress robes, totally dominating the space. However professional she wanted to remain, however detached she wanted to remain, as a woman, Hermione couldn’t fail to be aware of him in every way, or notice how devastatingly attractive he looked in his dark robes, still rather formerly attired, if not entirely full dress, not how she had previously seen him dressed here. She reminded herself to take control and offered him a coquettish smile.

“A rather bad habit that comes from living alone I am afraid Lucius; I tend to talk to myself.” She curbed the full Muggle saying about it being the first sign of madness.

Thinking quickly: “I was admiring this beautiful stone, aloud so it would appear.”

She gestured to the enormous black hearth which was the centrepiece of the room, the dark shiny stone glinting in the flames of the fire which burnt at its heart.

If Lucius doubted her admission, there was nothing reflected in his grey eyes as he moved more fully into the room, his gaze not leaving her for a moment.

“It’s Victorian marble.” He explained with ease.  “My father replaced the original, rather ugly fireplace in this room with it.”

Whilst informative his tone was clipped and a little sceptical Hermione thought.

“It’s quite striking and drew my eye the moment I entered the room.” Not wishing to get too involved in something she really knew nothing about or was remotely interested in, Hermione ventured onto equally shaky ground with another topic.

“I assume that Draco won’t be joining us for dinner.” This time she gestured with her eyes, indicating the long table, set for just two.

Lucius moved silently and gracefully towards the long impeccably set table, his robes rustling slightly as he pulled out a chair for Hermione, just as he had done at the hotel. Once more she was engulfed in the heady, spicy scent of his very masculine cologne, it fed her senses, reminding her of the forceful lover whose bed she had lain in.

“Draco is away for a few days, visiting a…. visiting his mother.” Lucius gently pushed the chair in for her to sit down.

Even if his assumptions about Hermione and his son being involved were wrong, he had a feeling Draco and the young witch had formed some sort of attachment or friendship. When Draco returned, after perhaps his initial shock at finding her once more at the Manor, he would probably tell Hermione where he had been, and Lucius did not want to look churlish or foolish, nor did he want to go back on the promise he had made to himself, not to lie to Hermione.

Hermione was more than a little taken back by Lucius’ admission as to his son’s whereabouts. He had only mentioned Narcissa once, and then his hand had been forced by the unfortunate headline in the Daily Prophet. His openness was certainly a step in the right direction, but she didn’t want to push him too hard or too fast, but by the same token she did not want to let the moment pass, keen to take advantage of his willingness to talk. Hermione made a decision, part two of her plan would involve speaking forthrightly and from the heart.

“Even as a young man, I am sure it’s different for boys, but I am certain he must miss her. I understand that.”

Hermione did understand, only too well, but she kept her voice steady, using her own situation as a deflection with Lucius. She had done it once before, oddly enough in a very similar vein, whilst talking about Draco, but Lucius had perceptibly chosen not to comment on it then, she wondered if he would do the same this time.  She had told herself then, the time and the place was not right for that conversation and had wondered if any time or place would be right; for some reason, she felt this could be that right time and place.  If of course Lucius chose to pick up on the subtle nuance in her words.

Hermione saw the hard lines etched in Lucius’ face, his eyes glittering like molten silver, curiosity burning in their luminous depths. He took his own seat, picking up a pristine white serviette, sliding it from the antique ring, which he placed slowly and deliberately back onto the table. He dropped the napkin into his lap, watching her pointedly. Hermione simply waited for him to ask the question.


	40. From The Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And thus the conversation continues............

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever thanks my loyal readers for kudos and comments and to new "people" thank you and I hope you continue to enjoy. For those annoying little errors I apologise and I hope they do not spoil your enjoyment too much :-) x

 

“How so?” Was all he said, his tone as clipped as ever, but laced with same softness she had heard, when they had spoken in Giovanni’s.

Hermione picked up her own serviette, but unlike Lucius she didn’t remove it from the exquisitely crafted ring, she simply toyed with it, twisting the heavy cotton between her fingers. His blunt, forthright question, was a little more unsettling than she had anticipated. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lucius lift a heavy crystal decanter, it was filled with a dark burgundy coloured wine and he poured an equal measure into two of the six glasses set at the table.

She replaced the serviette, her hand immediately shifting to the base of the glass.  The irony of the situation was not lost on the young witch. She had intended to be the one asking the questions, poking around in Lucius Malfoy’s head, getting him to open up to her, but at the moment their roles were very much reversed.  Hermione had unlocked this door and now had no choice but to walk through it.

Although not her fault, what had happened on the Sunday morning at the Aurelia Imperial, had undoubtedly both angered and hurt Lucius enormously, Hermione needed to get him to open up to her once more. Lucius Malfoy was no fool; he would see through any ploy she might adopt to achieve that, her openness and honestly had served her well thus far, and she had no compunction in continuing to be so. Her only concern was how, considering what she was about to say, it would actually affect him, it was a chance she had to take.

Her soft brown eyes, finally rose, meeting that penetrating grey blue stare. Her heart beat rapidly as she spoke.

“I know it’s a little different for girls, but I miss my mother every single day, and my father too.” She added quietly, continuing to hold Lucius, now rather shocked gaze.

“She may no longer still be in his home, but at least Draco’s mother is still part of his life, and he is able to see her to talk to her.”

Lucius remained silent, unsure as to whether it was utter shock at her revelation or quite simply having no clue what to say, which robbed him of the power of speech.  He recalled her use of the past tense when she had spoken of her parents previously, but she hadn’t elaborated and he certainly hadn’t felt in any position to question her further, that reticence, still clung to him like a dark cloak.

“I am sorry Hermione; I wasn’t aware that your parents were deceased. I…..” He noticed a faint, heart wrenchingly sad smile curve her soft lips. A crushing desire to run his thumb across them gripped him, but he remained motionless.

“They aren’t.” Her words were barely audible even in the silent room.

Hermione took a very slow, deep breath, raising the crystal glass to her lips, she took a small sip of the wine Lucius had poured.  The look of confusion on the dark wizard’s face censuring any further words he had.

“They live in Australia now, as Mr & Mrs Wendell Wilkins, and they have no children.”

Her voice faltered slightly and she took another sip of her wine.

Much as Lucius wanted to say, she didn’t need to do this, he couldn’t, the words dying on his lips as he went to speak, his interest was overwhelming.

Hermione chose her next words with great care, still thinking how they would affect Lucius. She kept her explanation brief and concise.

“The Dark Lord was looking for Harry and would use any means at his disposal to find him. It was safer for my parents if they knew nothing, so I obli….I modified their memories.”

She saw Lucius’ grey eyes widen, a familiar frown creasing his brow. She didn’t want him dwelling on the why she had done what she had, that she had done it to protect her parents from Death Eaters. She simply wanted him to be aware and of course to know that she understood how Draco felt.  An odd sadness flittered across her host’s face.

“I wonder if perhaps death would have been a more tolerable option.” Lucius held her brown eyes, they sparkled bright with tears.

He feared his words had come out wrongly, wishing he could retract them immediately and wanting nothing more than to comfort her, but he had shut that door, when he had, perhaps in hindsight, foolishly, told her to leave his hotel.

If not articulated as well as usual, strangely, Hermione understood the reasoning behind Lucius’ words, his peculiar logic. She had promised herself she would find her parents and restore their memories, but as each day went by she was consumed with more and more guilt that she hadn’t started her quest that day.

“I didn’t mean that you should have…. I meant”

“I know what you mean Lucius, knowing a person is dead is final, with it comes closure. You may regret not having said certain things, you may regret having said others. You more than likely regret some of the things you have or haven’t done. But death itself you cannot change, you have a void in your life that nothing will fill. I made this void in my life, but I can change it, I just haven’t, not yet.”

“I made the void in Draco’s life.” He said suddenly, quietly.

Hermione was caught totally off guard by his words, not expecting such a heartfelt admission from the former Death Eater. She had already come to realise he blamed himself for so many things, but in all honesty she hadn’t counted this amongst them.

Draco had come to her for help, at no point had he intimated that he held his father responsible for anything at all. His son’s concerns had far outweighed any blame game that was being played. She couldn’t tell Lucius that without betraying Draco’s confidence or revealing the real reason why she was here at Malfoy Manor, it did however give her a greater insight into just what was going on inside the dark wizard’s mind.

“Sometimes we really do have to do what is best for ourselves Lucius and unfortunately other’s get hurt, there are no other options. I suppose in certain respects I was lucky.”

Hermione noticed Lucius’ brow furrow, lucky was obviously not the word he would have chosen, she could see his point, but in certain respects she did feel lucky, the outcome could have been far worse.

“I did what was best for my parents and for my friends, the only person who got hurt as a result, was me, but it was my choice. Things could have been a lot worse had I not intervened in the way I did, I consider just me being hurt and only mentally very lucky.” She saw the briefest nod of acquiescence from Lucius.

“As I said Lucius, I am sure that Draco misses his mother, but he can still see her, talk to her.”

Hermione was treading on very dangerous ground here, she wouldn’t presume to give this man advice on his son, his wife or his marriage, she was in no position to. She had no idea what had gone on behind the dark walls of Malfoy Manor before Narcissa left, it was all purely supposition, supposition which could get her into very hot water. This was a path she had never envisaged this conversation taking.

“I don’t want to pry, or make any rash judgments.”

She noticed Lucius stiffen, and his eyes narrowed. He plucked at the edge of the serviette which lay across his knee.

“I have no idea what went on, Draco hasn’t told me anything and I don’t expect you to, that is your private life, and it is not what I am here to discuss with you. We just kind of drifted onto this path.  All I will say, and this is just based on my own personal feelings.  Draco doesn’t have a void in his life, I am sure that Mrs Malfoy is still very much there for her son, I really don’t doubt that for a moment, she is just in a different location.”

The plucking of the serviette ceased and Lucius turned his attention to the wine glass, taking a hefty swig, his eyes all the while fixed on her, his well-schooled features revealing nothing.

Hermione went on before she lost her nerve completely.

“If I were in Draco’s shoes I would rather my parents were happy apart than miserable together.”

She saw the dark wizard’s brows knit over the rim of his glass as he took another mouthful of wine.

“Perhaps you are right, but it is not something that my son and I discuss.” He spoke dismissively his tone more glacial than usual.

“Maybe you should.”  Hermione swallowed hard, taking a mouthful of her own wine, that really was pushing it a step to far, Lucius Malfoy would not take kindly to her interference or her unsubstantiated comments, she had scuppered any chance of him talking to her now.

“And why would we do that?” His tone was still icy, but it was still phrased as a question and not a sarcastic retort.

Hermione viewed Lucius, from beneath her lashes. For a man so deeply ingrained in the old ways, he continued to surprise her with his willingness to listen and seek her views. He veiled his responses well, shrouding them in disdain and cynicism, but it didn’t matter, she could live with that. She just needed to ensure that he was prepared to keep seeking and keep listening.

“Honestly……”

“Always”

The faintest glimmer of a smile touched his lips and Hermione was reminded of their earlier similar exchange, as clearly was he.

“It might do you both good to talk about it”.

Those dark blonde brows rose once more, Hermione couldn’t really see Lucius and his son sitting down over a glass of wine and discussing their innermost feelings but at least trying to understand one another perspectives would be a start.

“Really”. Disdain and cynicism was replaced by out and out sarcasm as Lucius savoured another mouthful of wine, adjusting the redundant serviette that still sat on his knee.

“Understanding another person’s perspective should not be considered weakness Lucius.”

A contemplative look drifted across his face, he might not be admitting it, but he was certainly listening to what she was saying and was clearly more than a little intrigued.

Lucius honestly couldn’t see the benefit of sitting down and discussing this with anyone, let alone his son, how on earth could talking about what was done and gone serve any useful purpose? In saying that however, it would be nice to know what his son was thinking, maybe even how he felt. It had just never occurred to Lucius Malfoy to ask.  It took a young witch more than half his age to make him realise that perhaps he should have done.

“You said to me not so long ago, that to be able to talk freely and openly to another person takes courage, I told you that courage was not something that you could accredit to me.  That I am unable to talk to my own son just goes to show you the kind of man I am, that I do visibly lack any such valour.”

“Don’t”. Her voice was strong and clear, louder than it had been since they had sat down, it seemed almost as if she shouted in the hushed room.

Lucius had looked away, his eyes falling to the place setting before him, studying it sightlessly as shame coursed through his veins. He looked up sharply at her raised, almost angry voice. His pale grey eyes, meeting her fiery brown once more.

“Do not use my words against me and do not put yourself down in that way.”

Lucius was stunned by her irritation and by what she said, he gave her no cause to defend him, not since she was 12 years old in fact and yet here she was doing precisely that.

“What I said, I meant.” Hermione tried to curtail her anger, her fingers gripping the slender, delicate stem of the glass, she put it down quickly for fear it might snap.

 “Talking to Draco may take time, simply because he is your son. It’s a recognised fact that it is often easier to talk to a stranger than someone close to you.”

Hermione wished they were in the little Italian restaurant, she would reach out once more and touch her fingers to Lucius’ in reassurance, now somehow much as she wanted to, it just didn’t feel right. Oh for a time turner to take her back there; before the hateful article in the Daily Prophet. She quickly drew her mind back to the present, not wanting to be distracted by something she couldn’t change.

“You are talking to me now, openly, without reservation, about something which I really have no right asking. You also agreed to talk to me about other things, events in your life which I imagine do not hold any good memories.” She harked back to their previous conversation, wanting to remind him of both the good and the bad.

“Whilst neither your father or The Dark Lord might not consider this a particularly courageous thing to do. I certainly do.”

Despite the mention of both his father and The Dark Lord, Lucius found a small, warm smile tugging at his lips.  This young witch certainly brought out a side in him that no one had in a long time, perhaps no one ever really had. Her fire and her passion were not to be diminished, not even by him, in fact if anything he seemed to fuel them. Despite everything, Lucius Malfoy felt more alive than he had done in a very long time, in some strange way, he also felt more at ease than he had done in a very long time, an odd sense of calm befalling him. Perhaps there was something to be said for simply talking to another person, sharing your feelings, your concerns. Although he was still not entirely convinced sharing them with his son, would have the same effect as sharing them with Hermione.  

 


	41. Deja Vu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Hermione's first night at the Manor, first night under the same roof as Lucius Malfoy, as if anything is going to happen.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grateful thanks as ever for comments and kudos, apologies for any sneaky little errors that pop up.

 

The blood curdling scream was horrific and Hermione shot bolt upright in her bed. Of course she was dreaming, she had heard the same sound the last time she had stayed in this house; it was indelibly etched on her subconscious. She had spent the best part of today with Lucius, talking to him, he was indelibly etched on her subconscious. She had spent a night in Azkaban, all of these things mixed together made for a potent cocktail, fuelling her dreams. She tried to get her erratic breathing under control, a tiny bead of perspiration trickled between her breasts. Hermione reached for the glass on her nightstand, taking a small sip of the cool, refreshing water. Replacing it, she closed her eyes, once more falling back amongst the array of downy pillows.

“Nooooooooooooo!”

This time it wasn’t a scream, the word clearly discernible in the dark silence, nor was it a dream, it was the same chilling sound Hermione had heard the last time she was here. Lucius was having another nightmare.  Just as before, she flung back the bedding, her bare feet resting against the cool wooden floor as she listened for any further sounds.  Every instinct in her wanted to run to him, every feminine instinct that was. The professional in her remained slightly more guarded, not because it was the wrong thing to do, but simply because she could once more be crossing that very fine line that she and Lucius had between them.

“Please no.” The words were pleading and must have been all but yelled by Lucius, travelling so clearly the distance between their rooms. 

She was almost at his door before he cried out again, this time his voice was hoarse as if he were in great pain.  Hermione pushed open the door and just as she had done before, padded across to the large four poster bed that dominated the room.  The last time she had set foot in this room, the odour had been sour, far from pleasant and it was easy to detach herself from the distressed man flailing against the mattress, tangled in his bedding, struggling to escape from his nightmare.  Tonight the air was filled with the familiar spicy scent that was all Lucius Malfoy, the warmth of the room accentuating his heady cologne.  Tonight, even in his anguish, Hermione was reminded of the man in whose bed she had slept; his long blonde hair damp from the perspiration of exertion, fanning out across his pillow. His breathing was heavy and a soft sheen of sweat glistened on his well-toned body. Tonight however they were not caused by the afterglow of passionate sex, but the terror of an unseen tormentor.

She moved closer to the bed; just as before, she knew Lucius was still very much asleep, this nightmare however not induced by the over indulgence of alcohol. She had spent all evening with the man, they had shared a bottle of wine, nothing more. They had retired at the same time, so she knew he had not continued drinking after she had gone to bed, unlike before there was no unpleasant smell of stale whiskey lingering in the air.  This really was a very different scenario.

Lucius continued the thrash about, his hands coming up to shield his face as he turned his head in an attempt to deflect whatever horror assailed him, his terrified voice once more pleading for mercy.  Waking someone up from such a deeply troubled nightmare was not always advisable, Hermione had read about this, it could be dangerous for both of them, Lucius could unwittingly lash out against her, thinking she was his aggressor. But nightmares were exhausting and put a lot of stress on the body, even in a room lit by only a gently blazing fire and some partially obscured moonlight, she could see the toll it was taking on Lucius.

It was almost as if he sensed a calming, safe presence, a strange earie silence befalling the room; the only sounds to be heard were the faint crackle or pop from the gently blazing fire and Lucius’ still rather rapid, heavy breathing. She decided not to wake him, as long as he remained as he did now, sitting on the edge of his large bed, just as she had done previously. Unlike before however she remained silent, her soothing words replaced by her small hand resting reassuringly against his thigh, her thumb softly circling the solid muscle concealed beneath the bedding. 

Lucius Malfoy cautiously opened his eyes, fear clamping around his thundering heart and surging through his blood at where he might find himself. He couldn’t move his legs, just as he had been unable to do in Azkaban due to the heavy chains and the bone numbing cold. Despite sleep, his body was exhausted, despite the sweat which drenched him, his flesh was icy cold. Accustoming his eyes to the fear-provoking darkness that surrounded him, Lucius realised he was actually in his own comfortable bed at Malfoy Manor. He tentatively tried to move his lower limbs once more, there was nothing wrong with him, his toes moved, his muscles flexed, there was no paralysis of any kind, just a heavy weight across him, as if something had fallen upon him, pinning him to his mattress.

He lifted his head warily, immediately comprehending he was still asleep, his torturous nightmare of Dementors and Azkaban clearly having drifted to thoughts of the young witch who had filled most of his day, and all of his evening. His heart rate began to slow, a small relieved smile touching his mouth as his head fell back into his pillows, he allowed thoughts of Hermione Granger to permeate his brain, they drove away any images of the sole destroying prison, of the evil creatures that had guarded its fortress like walls. 

For the last week or so he had tried to banish any thoughts of the beautiful young woman from his mind, not wanting to dwell on the brief time they had spent together or the passion that they had shared; it was something he could never allow to happen again. But for now, after the most ferocious nightmare he had suffered in a long time, he would allow those thoughts of her to sooth him, caress him, arouse him. 

Why she was in his room he had no idea, his dream had simply begun here, allowing him to wake and find her lying across his lower body, a small delicate hand resting on his bare chest, the other slung casually across his thigh, a thin layer of high thread count linen, the only thing separating his flesh from hers. Her head nestled somewhere in between, a curtain of frantic hair fanned across his partially covered midriff. Nightmares were always so vivid, you could often recall even the smallest of details, dreams were unfortunately not like that, this one was different and Lucius savoured every small detail which brought Hermione Granger to him in slumber. 

A little over a week ago, Lucius had actually woken to find a very real Hermione Granger sleeping in his bed, he had thought he’d been dreaming then, but as he reached out to touch her sleeping frame, he had enjoyed the feel of her soft warm skin beneath his fingers. Delighted now, how even in sleep she moved into his touch. His still sleepy mind quickly recalling the night they had spent together, his body reacting as always, quickly and powerfully, to the recollection. 

As he took in the sleep induced vision prostrate across him now, he remembered what he had wanted to do that Sunday morning, it was a memory he tried to obliterate from his mind, too painful after what has ensured.  His subconscious tauntingly reminding him of what might have been, sleep and dreams clearly giving him a second chance, he could savour every moment. In sleep his actions could harm no one, in dreams he could enjoy his body’s reactions without fear of reprisal.

He moaned softly as he allowed the supressed memories to flood his brain, his body as hard as it had been that morning, his hand brushed against his aching arousal, his flesh throbbing to his touch. Lucius fought his nightmares, desperately trying to wake himself from their torture, only seldom did he escape their brutal conclusions. He hoped sleep would afford him the same luxury with his dream.  

He remembered how good her lips had felt against his skin, how warm and erotic her mouth had felt around him, his fingers drifted slowly to his rigid flesh, groaning at his own touch. His nightmare had sent Dementors to torment him, in that same nightmare he had felt their cold soulless presence zapping everything from him.  He would not let them take his memories of her, he had battled against them, as the spectre like beings had reached out for him.  For now, he had won and the dark wizard willed that his sweet dreams of Hermione would bring him the same graphic clarity.  She moved, he felt her against him, the slim fingers that had rested upon his bare chest, curled lightly, the tips brushing over his ribs. Her head moved indiscernibly, but so close to his swollen flesh he felt every tiny movement, her hair tickled as she raised it slightly, the feather-light sensation, teasing him. Another moan fell from Lucius’ lips. The hand resting against his thigh, through the cool cotton, almost burned his skin with an inexorable heat that he wanted to feel on his bare flesh, caressing him as she had done that night in the hotel. With an abandoned but skilful passion that drove him over the edge into a blissful ecstasy that he hadn’t felt in a lifetime.

 

Hermione, moved extremely carefully, she had been in this not exactly comfortable position, for too long, things had locked and things were beginning to cramp. She flexed her fingers, feeling them brush against the chest of the man she was currently using as a pillow, she felt him stir slightly beneath her, and careful not to disturb him, she moved her other hand. She assumed it was still resting on his muscled thigh, the fact it was almost completely numb, she was not entirely sure. Moving it slowly, Hermione felt those same muscles ripple to her touch; heat surged through her, she remembered those powerful naked thighs only too well and the rest of his glorious, well-toned body, the delicious masculine scent of him fanned the small flicker of heat.

She felt him move again, suddenly realising that if she had become stiff in this prone position, he too must be suffering somewhat under her dead weight. Shifting her head ever so slightly, and extending her neck, Hermione became very aware of the stiffness Lucius had _suffered_ under her. The groan that escaped his lips this time, was not caused by an unseen presence in his nightmare, it was clearly caused by her very presence. His long fingers drifted into her hair which was still splayed across his stomach and part of his chest.  The sheet pulled against her face as Lucius hand moved towards his own stiffness; facing away from him, she was uncertain as to whether he was asleep and was, as some men do, touching himself in sleep or was awake and thinking she was asleep was just……

Another long, pleasured moan accompanied the movement beneath the sheets, distracting Hermione from where her thoughts were going.  A rush of arousal pooled between her own legs, but guilt wasn’t far behind; guilt that she had come in here because Lucius was having a nightmare and now she was having erotic feelings about him, and guilt that whether he was asleep or awake, this was clearly something he had not imagined he was sharing.   Trying to decide what was right or wrong became increasingly difficult as she became more and more spellbound with the, slow deliberate movements going on inches from her face.  

Conscience got the better of her, and asleep or awake Hermione needed to stop Lucius or at least alert him to the fact that she wasn’t asleep. Her neck still aching a little from the awkward position, she turned her head slowly, her hand coming to gently cover his, it trembled slightly as her fingers clasped around his, even hidden beneath the bed clothes, there was no disguising what he was doing or the potency of his need.

His chest rose and fell heavily, but even in the still semi darkness, Hermione could tell it was laboured for very different reasons to the terror that had haunted him previously. His eyes were closed, the moonlight drifting into the room through the French window to the side of his bed, cast a strange shadow across his now peaceful face, accentuating his already long lashes. She still had no clue as to whether Lucius was awake or asleep, perhaps out of embarrassment he was feigning sleep, presenting Hermione with yet another dilemma. There was only one way to ensure that he was not embarrassed in any way, that of course in turn could lead to anger, but Hermione felt confident she could handle even Lucius Malfoy’s wrath, but she certainly did not want to inflict any more shame on the man.  Hermione’s fingers released his, they trailed slowly over the thick cotton sheet, finding an edge, she slipped her hand beneath the cool white fabric. Her hand then trailed with equal slowness over his warm skin, her fingers roaming back from whence they had come, once more curling around his, sharing in the delight of his arousal. 

Her eyes were fixed on Lucius, his own still firmly closed, even as she tentatively moved her fingers over his, gently brushing against his silky swollen flesh they remained tightly shut.

“Mmm …...”

Slipped from his lips and Hermione found it difficult to contain a rather self-satisfied smile, quite possibly a small smirk.

“I am not dreaming am I?” The dark timbre of his voice was laced with a breathy, hushed tone.

“No Lucius, you are not dreaming.” Hermione’s words were equally as breathy and equally as hushed, but unlike his they were firm and assured. She watched as his eyes drifted open.

Lucius was robbed of the power of just about everything save the pure undiluted pleasure which was coursing through his highly sensitised body. Her warm brown eyes studied him intently, in the darkness he couldn’t make out anything in their depths.

This wasn’t going to happen again, it couldn’t; but the small fingers, all but caressing his shaft were sending a very different message to his brain, one that he didn’t want to finish any time soon.  His body had been exhausted, drained of everything even in sleep by Dementors, her touch light as it was, drove them away, rejuvenating him, taking him once more to that blissful level of pleasure she seemed to find so easy to inflict upon him.

Still cocooned in the semi darkness Hermione sensed the conflict going on in the dark wizard, his rigid flesh beneath her fingers telling a very different story to the one reflected in his face, which her free hand reached up to stroke.

“I came in here because I heard you call out.” She didn’t elaborate further. “Would you prefer it if I went back to my own room?” He had asked her to go once before, whatever her own feelings, whatever her own need, she had to give him that same option now. He had to have to the power to choose.

A cloud moved across the night sky, allowing the waxing moon to fully illuminate the room, the face at her fingertips was bathed in a strange mixture of pain, pleasure and fear. Lucius didn’t speak, he simply shook his blonde head against the pillows, his grey eyes glistening in the shimmering light as they held hers.

Hermione smiled gently at him, silently trying to assuage him of the pain and fear, hoping that the pleasure would banish them completely, for tonight at least.


	42. The Malfoy Resolve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can Hermione help Lucius banish the demons of his nightmare.........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank yous as ever, apologies as usual. A quick posting for a new chapter as I am away for a few days and you might have to wait......hopefully this will keep you "happy" until my return ..... enjoy

 

Twice in a very short space of time Hermione found herself not only in Lucius Malfoy’s bed but also very much in control of the situation.  She remembered all too well, his out and out horror and shame in the aftermath of their previous night together; the fervent and unbridled sex they had shared quite literally leaving its mark.  She continued to gently stroke and caress his erection in an almost cathartic fashion, her eyes were still firmly fixed on his face, once more partially obscured in the semi darkness. A barely audible moan escaped his lips as her fingers curled seductively around him, tightening ever so slightly, she felt him pulsate at her touch.  There was a tiny part of Hermione’s brain that wasn’t totally overwhelmed by desire for this man, that tiny part thought with clarity and logic, but was none the less, fuelled by lust. 

Hermione wanted him, needed him to touch her, and not just for her own gratification, but she feared that if Lucius left a single mark on her body, in any way, he would once again be filled with those feelings of hate and self-loathing, it had to be done in a way whereby she could maintain complete control, not allowing him to suffer any of those emotions. She had never really used her feminine whiles on anyone before, oh of course she had fluttered her eyelashes, worn a daringly low cut or teasingly short dress, usually for Ronald, but to use sex, her sex as a tool, was not something Hermione had ever done. That tiny part of her brain continued to race, but the gentle throbbing of his hard body was gradually obscuring rational thought. 

There was nothing inaudible about the guttural sound which escaped Lucius as in one nimble movement she straddled him, but despite this he remained motionless. Even as the wet warmth of her femininity came to rest on his groin, just above the sheet which still constrained the full potency of his arousal, he didn’t move.   

The thin covering of cloud in the night sky had finally passed over, allowing the full moon to filter unobstructed into the room, leaving them bathed in a dim unobtrusive light. Hermione was grateful for the gentle luminosity, it concealed her own apprehension, whilst revealing Lucius’ face beautifully, in every sense of the word.  His still slightly damp mane of practically white hair fanned out across the pillow behind him, the odd tendril clinging to neck. His pale skin was flawless, the moonlight giving it a luminous sheen which accentuated his handsome aristocratic features. His mesmerising grey eyes glittered, in their limpid depths she could see his own desire, a desire laced with the same uncertainty she has seen before. That bizarre sense of empowerment trickled back into Hermione’s veins; whenever the dark wizard seemed unsure or apprehensive in any way, it seemed to rush into her blood with lightning speed.

She eased backwards, her hands at her sides Hermione clasped the cotton sheet pushing it back to expose his fully naked and gloriously hard body, his arousal brushed her arse and she writhed against it.  Still, Lucius didn’t move, his chest rose and fell sharply, and in the half light, Hermione saw a tiny muscle pulsating in his jaw, in his face, she could see him fighting ever instinct he possessed not to reach out and grab her. He would touch, she was certain of it, even if a little encouragement and reassurance was required, he would touch her.

Hermione shifted her weight, positioning herself over him. She noticed his eyes widen and his tongue dart across his mouth to moisten his lips, both were a practically wondrous reaction, she had seen it reflected in his face previously, but surely _this_ wasn’t a new experience for Lucius? She sank slowly down onto his rigid flesh, moaning softly at how good he felt; at this totally unforgiving angle, he filled her completely, joyously. She could also feel him resisting the urge to buck into her, she saw the restraint in his expressive face. Hermione squeezed her inner walls around him, drawing him in, feeling him move tentatively and slowly, pushing ever so slightly into her.

Hermione grabbed the edge of the thin cotton nightie she wore, pulling it up over her head and quickly discarding it onto the floor. She felt Lucius shift beneath her and inside her, his eyes drifting over her high pert breasts, her nipples hardened at his soft but lustful appraisal. She planted her palms slightly behind her, arching her back and thrusting her breasts forward, silently begging him to touch her. Still his hands remained tightly clenched at his side. Slowly she began to move, riding him, his ample length buried deep inside her, its rigidity stroking and touching all of the right places, sending frissons of endless pleasure searing through her already heated body.  She didn’t want to push him too hard or too fast, or force him to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, but her body was screaming for him to touch her, glorious as it was, his cock wasn’t enough.

Her fingers trailed over his strong muscled thighs, capturing the hands that remained at his side, her thumbs brushing over the backs.  Covering one with her own, it opened to her touch, she raised it to her mouth, gently kissing his fingertips, her tongue sensually licking the now open palm, before sliding it down to her neck. She held it there just for a moment, his long elegant fingers resting almost menacingly at her throat. A wicked smile curved her lips as she continued to manipulate his hand. Lucius did not resist or pull away, his gaze remained constant, his breathing uneven and shallow. From the fingers beneath her own, to his erection sheathed deep within her, she felt every small reaction, from the tiny tremor in his hand as it followed her guiding path, to the throbbing power between her legs.

Although his body felt fit to burst, Lucius was powerless to alter anything, it was as if she had cast a petrificus spell on him. The truth of it was, the only one person controlling his movements was he himself. Before, he had managed to overcome the crippling fear which had virtually paralysed his body, but having seen first-hand what he was capable of doing, even in passion, he held himself firmly in check, sheer will power, refusing to allow himself to get so carried away; his cock throbbed deep within her, his arms ached from sheer resistance, her beautiful, lithe body begging him to touch it.  Her lips whilst only touching his fingers with the briefest of kisses, reached the most erogenous parts of him. As her fingers stilled at her throat, a strange thrill that he desperately tried to quell made his heart race. Fear and incomprehension seeped into his body and then it was gone, her hand moving once more, again taking his with it.

Even though she knew exactly where her hand was taking his, as his soft warm palm lightly brushed over her breast, his thumb catching one raised nipple, Hermione couldn’t help the small gasp of pleasure that fell from her lips. So intense was the simple touch, her head fell backwards, her body arching forward of its own volition and her muscles tightening violently around his sheathed flesh.  His touch, even instigated and lead by her, was exquisite. Her fingers still lightly guiding his, Hermione once more brought his hand across the puckered flesh, her own fingers caressing his, the taut bud _trapped_ between them. A jagged breath escaped Lucius, his eyes glittering in the half-light with passionate intensity. She went to shift his hand once more, finding her movement barred with resistance. Their eyes met and for the briefest of moments, disappointment danced along Hermione’s spine, until that was, Lucius fingers took up their own delicious movement, her own hand stilled as his thumb and forefinger captured the aching peak.  Her small gasp of pleasure, became a moan of sheer delight as the pressure increased and he slowly rolled it between them with practised ease, sensation flooded every part of her body. The tiniest of movements, on the smallest of spots but the power of the desire it evoked was insurmountable.

“Oh Lucius.” The two words were like an impassioned prayer, Hermione hardly recognised her own voice as it rose into the silent room.

Her hand left his, as her body arched into his gentle, erotic touch. She thrusted slowly forward, her hands drifting onto his legs, her fingertips brushing his skin delicately as they moved higher over his powerful thighs, relishing the feel of the soft downy hair that covered them and the twitching muscles. 

Never had Lucius seen such exquisite pleasure etched on a woman’s face or felt such powerfully intimate responses to his touch.  

All at once, at perhaps this most inopportune of moments he realised that whilst his previous sexual encounters had all been satisfying, well mostly. They had simply been that, satisfying sex.  How in Salazar’s name had he managed to reach this age and only just come to realise this. The answer was as simple as the satisfying sex, **he** had never allowed it to be anything else, and he had never had a partner who had wanted or needed anything more. In Hermione, Lucius realised that she not only wanted and needed more, but so did he. It was an oddly liberating comprehension.

However ironic it might be, Hermione Granger drove away the spectres of the past, the demons that haunted him by day and tortured him by night. It was a past she was very much a part of, and every fragment of his being wanted to share that gradual feeling of freedom with her. He wanted to share that pleasure with her, and not just the purely sexual pleasure, although for now that sexual pleasure was very much the joyous escape he wanted, and he needed.

She moved slowly and deliberately. Her hot wet flesh, so enticing, drawing everything out of him, but in the nicest possibly way. His body now coated in the soft sheen of sweat that came with pleasure not with fear.  Her warm hands now gently caressing him, not the icy cold fingers of his tormentors.  They faded like ghosts, their chilling darkness chased away by the warmth of this beautiful young witch.  He allowed her to take over his body, his mind still wandering, just a little inopportunely, but no longer back to the darkness of his nightmare.

Though hooded eyes in the dim room Lucius savoured and watched; Hermione Granger was a young woman who seemed to know exactly what she wanted and what she needed, the fact that he could be either of those things astonished Lucius Malfoy, he might not have even believed it, had she not been so prepared to give in return. She had already _introduced_ him to the heady delights of oral sex and now she was sitting astride him, smoothly riding his throbbing cock. She had all but made him touch her, willingly solicited it, oddly he didn’t feel intimidated by it or that his masculinity was being undermined in anyway, in fact it was sensual and deeply erotic.

Despite their previous sexual encounter and the fact, she was now back in his bed, her soft white limbs straddling him, they really hardly knew each other. This was getting to know someone in the most intimate and basic of ways, possibly a little in reverse of how things _should be done_ , what he was _used_ to, but he liked that she stripped away those stuffy proprieties. Her confidence and lack of inhibitions still surprised him, even if her forthrightness didn’t, she showed him what she enjoyed, what she wanted him to do. In another strange quirk he found this oddly safe, he was not the one overstepping any boundaries, although it appeared he was the one with the boundaries, or he had been, those boundaries seemed to becoming a lot broader. Merlin she was…...

“So responsive”

The rather feline like smile on Hermione’s lips alerted Lucius to the fact he had said the words out loud, heat suffused his body, he wasn’t prone to speaking or voicing such thoughts during sex, she clearly enjoyed his vocalisation, something else he found ridiculously erotic.

One hand continued to travel back and forth up Lucius’ leg as his thumb and forefinger sustained their blissful assault on her senses and her breast. The other crept to his free hand which still remained at his side, her brown eyes twinkled a little mischievously as she repeated the process once more. Kissing his fingertips, trailing her warm tongue across the palm and slowly and deliberately bringing it to the other breast. It was a total sensory overload, Hermione gripping his shaft tightly with her hot slick walls, as his fingers and thumbs worked in unison. 

Lucius all but growled out his own pleasure, his hips leaving the bed more forcefully, finally thrusting up into her. Hermione gyrated her own hips, grinding against him, pulling him in still further. He felt so good, filling her, stretching her, the angle making sure he touched and rubbed every sweet spot, causing heat and sinful pleasure to sear through her body.

His large hands gently kneading her breasts, his long fingers tweaking and stroking the tight buds, the more he kneaded, the more she moved. The more he tweaked, the tighter her inner walls gripped him, the more he stroked the louder she moaned.  Hermione became lost in her own slow, delicious rhythm, working in perfect synchronicity with his hands, they acted like a metronome, lulling her into an almost trance like state of pure unadulterated ecstasy, unhurriedly sliding up and down his silky rigid flesh as it slipped in and out of her wet heat.   Every inch of her skin tingled in rapture, her body singing out in pleasure. Through a haze of ecstasy and half closed eyes, Hermione now watched Lucius, her brain did not want to think about anything that wasn’t totally fused with the heavenly sensations being inflicted on her body, but there was that tiny part that remained clear. In that clarity and through those hazy half closed eyes Hermione realised the restraint Lucius was constricted by, was not entirely due to their last encounter. It was a reserve that went back a long way before that, had almost been instilled in him. A man like Lucius Malfoy needed release, in whatever form that might take, breeding and restraint had their place; this wasn’t the place.

Her own passion mounted and she began to feel a familiar tension begin to build, but as certain as she had been, with a little encouragement Lucius would touch her, she was equally as certain, he would reach his own ultimate pleasure before her, she would see that Malfoy restraint crumble in the delights of climactic abandon.

His hands still at her aching breasts, teasing the swollen peaks, Hermione arched her back, pressing herself harder into his touch.

“Mmmm, you feel so good.” Her voice was soft and sexy, her sultry brown eyes meeting his clearly rather shocked grey.

She moaned again louder this time, grinding herself harder onto his wet sheathed cock, she saw his chest rise and fall with more rapidity, his hips moving beneath her. Her movements increased and she tightened her slick heat around him, lifting herself up to the point he almost slipped from her, before sinking back down forcefully onto him. Even in this partial light she saw his pupils dilate, his nostrils flare, and his lips part. She repeated the action, a little faster this time and much harder, feeling him rise to meet her. His hands and his fingers were driving her wild, as they continued to massage her soft flesh, the pads of his thumbs caressing the pebbled peaks, she could feel his own spiralling need through his touch. 

Her pace increased once more, taking him along with her, pulling him harder and faster towards his peak. She constricted her muscles tighter around him, the wet friction pulling him deeper and harder into a vortex he could not escape from. His face was a picture of beautiful contorted pleasure, he tried to hold her gaze but as she wantonly dragged him over the edge and he cried out, his eyes fluttered shut, his back arched of the bed, his hips thrusting up into her as she came down hard on him. The lethal combination sending Hermione headlong into her own orgasmic abyss, forgetting herself as she called out his name and her own pleasure as she did so.

“Oh Lucius, that’s sooooooo good.”

She felt his hot seed spilling into her, coating her, the sensation so incredibly erotic, as he continued to thrust up into her, her walls continuing to shudder around him, drawing everything from his body. 

His body still enjoying the small rippling tremors, his eyes drifted slowly open, a myriad of emotions danced in their sparkling depths and across his devastatingly handsome flushed face. 

A little of that Malfoy resolve had most definitely crumbled.

 


	43. A Good Place To Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So where do we go from here......let's find out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks and apologies, taking advantage of patchy internet where I am at the moment, so a little chapter to (hopefully) keep you going.....

 

It was the strangest thing, just as before in the hotel, Hermione had simply drifted into Lucius’ arms and they had fallen asleep. There had been no awkwardness and no conversation it had just happened, as it if had happened a hundred times before.

This time however, it was Hermione who woke first, waking up in Lucius Malfoy’s bed, in his home was a very different consequence to waking up in a swanky London hotel, it was far more personal for starters and had a lot more gravitas. Hermione wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it, and more to the point she wasn’t sure how Lucius was going to feel, especially after the last time. Admittedly there would be no nasty gossip plastered all over the front page of the Daily Prophet to spoil the moment, but in all honesty, unfounded gossip was a lot easier to contend with than Lucius Malfoy waking up and simply regretting what had happened. It certainly wouldn’t make what she had come here to do any easier in any respect.

She glanced over at the sleeping man; Lucius was lying on his back; he really was truly stunning. For once, his long blonde locks were fabulously dishevelled, and fanned out, tangled, across his crumpled pillow. For the first time she saw him looking peaceful and relaxed in sleep, with no torturous nightmares haunting him, he looked so much younger and even more devilishly handsome, if that was possible. His broad, bare chest was exposed from the bedding, it rose and fell enticingly, and it took all of Hermione’s willpower not to reach out and touch it. The white cotton sheet was pulled taut across his pale hips, tantalisingly revealing a small thatch of dark blonde hair and just about covering his manhood. Hermione’s breath hitched in her chest as she thought about his gorgeous, hard body.  His arm rested almost casually against her leg, and with a little gentle manoeuvring, she managed to slip from the bed without disturbing him. Grabbing her nightdress, discarded on the floor from the previous evening, Hermione flushed at her own uninhibited behaviour, slipping it back over her head, she padded quickly and quietly from the room.  She had come to this house with a purpose, and this wasn’t it, nor was the reason she had given the Minister of Magic, but that was beside the point. Last night even in the height of passion, one part of her brain had managed to think with lucidity and reason, she needed that part of her brain to take over now and there was only one way to do that, a relaxing hot soak and an equally hot cup of tea, they were always the answer.

Just as she had done on the previous occasion, after her soak, Hermione went to the kitchen, made her tea and then slipped into what was Narcissa’s sitting room. Strange that she found herself gravitating here, on both occasions, having left Lucius’ bedroom, this time however, under very different circumstances.  At least on this occasion she did not have to face Draco, the thought of that, after what had happened, Merlin! She quickly pushed it to the back of her mind, she could deal with that as and when it arose. She made herself comfortable in what had become, even after only one previous visit, her favourite chair, the one by the fire which looked out over the gardens, the one she had fallen asleep in the last time. She curled her fingers around the hot mug, her brain was far too active this morning, there was no way she could fall asleep now, even if she wanted to.  

She tried to go over all the possible ways this morning was going to start once Lucius woke up, but somehow her brain wouldn’t let her. Logic decreeing that she would simply have to deal with whatever it was, as and when it happened, and that no amount of preplanning would help.  The little devil in Hermione was sulking bitterly, having wanted to remain in bed and start the day very differently, the woman in her agreeing wholeheartedly as a little ball of heat sparked low in her belly. The professional in her sided with logic, although she had once again crossed a very un-professional line, which would not make what she had come here to do any easier. It was all a little bit of a mess really, which even Hermione’s keen brain was having trouble processing.  What made it all the messier and all the more confusing was at the centre of all this was one Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy of all people, how had this even happened and so bloody quickly?  That really was something she couldn’t dwell on right now, that was another issue entirely, she needed to be concentrating on Lucius, although concentrating on him didn’t seem to be much of a problem.

“Good morning.” His tone was quiet, his large, always imposing frame filling the doorway of the room once used by his wife.

His voice didn’t seem confrontational in any way, nor did he appear irritated, but Hermione immediately felt uneasy, like she was somehow trespassing. Draco had told her that his father didn’t come into this room, perhaps that was the case with Narcissa, but clearly he had no such qualms now.

Lucius saw the alarm in her face, but somehow instinctively knew it wasn’t his physical presence that was causing it.

“Draco told me, he had shown you in here on your last visit. I thought this was where you might be; do you mind if I join you?”

Wonderfully courteous as ever, Hermione had to smile: “Lucius this is your home, you of all people do not have to ask permission to enter a room.”

He moved with his usual catlike grace, fully into the room, the darkness of his as always immaculate attire, a stark contrast to the light airy space.  

He nodded his head acquiescently. “That is perfectly true Hermione, however I am sure that my son told you, I don’t come into this room, good manners decree therefore, that I do precisely that.”

Hermione couldn’t fault his reasoning or of course those impeccable manners, which she had always found so contrary to everything he had once represented. 

“In which case of course, please.” She felt very odd, gesturing the seat opposite her for him to join her.

The dark wizard sat with equal feline elegance, crossing his long muscled legs and sitting deeply in the high backed chair.  Hermione noticed his grey eyes darting around the room, as if he was seeing it for the first time, before they finally came to settle a little unnervingly on her.  She was tempted to ask Lucius if he had slept well, but for the latter part of the night and early morning, she already knew the answer to that.  It wasn’t what had happened last night that made Hermione wary of what to say, it was what had happened the previous time they had slept together or rather Lucius’ reaction the following morning. However, thus far nothing in his demeanour indicated any regret or resentment, if anything he seemed a little apprehensive.

“I know technically you are here to ask the questions Hermione, but would you mind if I asked you something?”

The young witch shook her head in surprise, struggling to find some safe ground of her own for conversation, his question had caught her unawares.

“When you were here the last time.” His pale grey eyes were now fixed firmly on her, but there was no edge to his aristocratic tones, still that little hint of apprehension, Hermione noted.

“Did you come to my room, did you speak to me?”

Hermione’s warm brown eyes met his, she took a sip of her now lukewarm tea, just to moisten her very dry mouth before she spoke; quietly but assuredly.

“Yes Lucius I did.” She wasn’t sure where he was going with the question. He didn’t seem annoyed in any way, but she kept her response concise. She had always been taught never to volunteer more information than was asked of you.

“I see.”

His tone remained clipped, but still there was no trace of anything that could fall remotely under the heading of anger.

“I was a little inebriated that night……no I was very drunk that night. I don’t really recall …... I have this vague recollection of a nightmare, which I thought had drifted into a dream of you coming to my room, talking to me. When I saw you the following morning with my son, I wondered if perhaps…...”

Hermione could see the dark wizard struggling with his words, embarrassment flickering in his face; it was most unlike him, and was almost endearing.  Hermione put her tea down and shuffled forward in her seat. She would never describe herself as a particularly tactile person, oh of course she hugged her friends, that sort of thing, but touching people when she spoke to them, even in her line of work, was not something she did as a rule. Lucius was obviously becoming the exception to that rule, from their very first meeting, she’d had the overwhelming urge to touch him when she spoke, little gestures, like at the hotel, resting her hand reassuringly on his knee, in Giovanni’s covering his hand with her own.  This morning was no different, sitting on the edge of the large chair she rested both of her small hands on the leg which was tastefully crossed over the other. 

“Just like last night Lucius, you weren’t dreaming.” Her face flushed slightly at the mention of last night, a rush of heat coursing through her body.  She felt him shift slightly beneath her touch, and saw a sensual warmth drift into those usually cold grey eyes of his. Her fingers moved gently against the wool of his trousers as she continued to speak.

“Just like last night, I heard you cry out, I thought at first perhaps I was the one who was dreaming, or that maybe Malfoy Manor was haunted.” She gave him a small smile, choosing her words with great care.

“But when I heard it again, I knew what it was. It wasn’t my place…... you didn’t even know I was here then.” Hermione didn’t want to alarm Lucius, she had no idea how much of his nightmares he recalled, so stuck with the concise. “But in the end I just couldn’t ignore it.”

Alcohol obscured most of Lucius’ memory of what had been her first visit to his room, he could put together some of the details from afterwards; the following morning waking up more refreshed than he remembered going to bed, humiliation at how he must have appeared and his lack of personal hygiene, suffused his body. But obviously Hermione had not been deterred in any way, returning again last night having heard him call out once more in his sleep; the Brave Gryffindor label she had earnt at school clearly very much in evidence.  At the brief thought of the previous evening, his body stirred and he felt his trousers tighten, the tiny movement of her hands as she spoke to him, feeling as if she was touching him intimately. Lucius silently admonished himself, he was behaving like a pubescent teenager; he had wanted to know about that first _visit,_ he needed to know if it had been a dream, but in reality he wanted to talk about the previous evening. The dark wizard and former Death Eater, struggled to find the nerve to bring it up directly.  

“And last night?” He finally managed, his voice quiet.

With the edge of uncertainty Hermione heard in Lucius’s voice came that rush of empowerment. 

“And last night…... last night I heard you cry out again…...” She needed to push Lucius just a little bit. “And not just in anguish.”

She felt him shift once more beneath her fingers, a tiny spot of colour stained his usually pallid cheeks as his always penetrating grey gaze faltered ever so slightly.

“I apologise for my lack of restraint on both counts.”

Anyone else and Hermione would have thought they were joking, but everything about Lucius told her that he most certainly wasn’t, she could feel the tension emanating from his body. Pureblood breeding had a lot more to answer for that she had imagined, realising that it had a lot to do with his issues now.  Hermione wasn’t sure if she was angry or sad, quite possibly it was a combination of the two, she tried to keep both in check as she responded to her companion.

“Well speaking purely from my own personal perspective, I am not exactly an advocate of restraint. I find it very overrated.” There was a tiny inflection of humour in her voice and a rather naughty little smile curled her lips, but her eyes were serious and firmly fixed on Lucius. 

He said nothing, his grey eyes still avoiding hers.  She decided that perhaps subtlety was not the best approach in this instance, her little push was not working. Dangerous as it might be, she needed to provoke the dark wizard, just a little bit more. Hermione had been wondering where to start her conversations with him, on the pretence of Ministry business or her promise to Draco, she had to start somewhere and this seemed like a good an opportunity as any. It would also perhaps address some rather more personal questions of her own that were running around inside her head.  Talking to Lucius Malfoy on a personal level had served her well previously, it seemed like a good place to start.


	44. Pushing The Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Hermione continues to struggle with her professionalism and how quickly events have overtaken her and Lucius struggles with the chains of the past and his upbringing. Will the feisty Gryffindor be able to balance the two and help him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick rushed apologies and thanks before the ever patchy internet dies on me. Normal service next week!

 

Hermione pressed her fingers lightly against Lucius’ calf, trying to bring his attention back to her.

He ignored the light humour in her voice, his sensual mouth was set in harsh, thin line, his well-schooled features implacable as he continued to avoid her gaze. He blocked his mind to the light touch of her fingers, which unbelievably still stirred his body.

“Lack of restraint has not served me well in past Hermione.”

His tone was more clipped and severe than she had heard in a long time. Hermione was well aware of what Lucius referred to, it was a very different time in both of their lives, a time when she would no more have thought about sitting in Malfoy Manor, reassuring the former Death Eater, than fly on her broomstick naked across the Quidditch pitch.

“Lucius, please, look at me.”

Slowly Lucius Malfoy raised that blue grey gaze, from the spot where he had been fixedly looking, to her beautiful face.

Certain that she now had his full attention, Hermione spoke once more, pitching her tone somewhere between the professional and the woman who had shared his bed, twice: “As for calling out in your sleep, that is hardly what I would call lack of restraint, none of us can be held accountable for what we do in slumber.”

She omitted to mention how Ronald Weasley talked incessantly in his sleep, about all manner of odd things.

For once Hermione found herself in agreement with the little Devil, deciding the direction he was pushing her in was the right one, if possibly a more precarious path to take the conversation along, but right none the less.

“As for your _lack of restraint elsewhere,_ I liked it and quite frankly Lucius, last night, well, I think it was actually me who was lacking in control, not you.” She saw a flicker of what she could only describe as shock, cross his face, a blonde brow quirking almost indiscernibly.

“As I said, restraint can be very overrated and incredibly dull when applied in the wrong places.” The brow rose further, and the tiny spot of pink which coloured his pale face increased. 

This wasn’t exactly how she has envisaged the conversation going, but the little devil was rubbing his hands together in glee, and Hermione found herself more than just curious, it certainly was a place to start……...

Lucius was completely out of his depth here. Right from their meeting at the Ministry event, he had for some inexplicable reason, found it impossible to lie to Hermione, and after what felt like a lifetime of deceit, he relished that feeling, a feeling almost of freedom. He had promised himself from that moment, he would never lie to her. Admittedly in this instance he found her honesty a little shocking, but at the same time delightfully refreshing and much as he was loath to acknowledge it, oddly exciting. No one had ever been so direct with him about anything, and especially not about something so intimate, talking about such things was not something the pureblood wizard had ever done. The always outspoken Hermione Granger seemed to have no constraints when it came to such conversations and he had to confess it rather was intriguing, finding himself wanting to reciprocate.

“On the contrary Hermione, I would say you were very much in control, enjoyably so.”

He tried to maintain his usual cool, authoritative demeanour as he spoke. His admission to her, sending a rather alien rush of adrenalin through his tense body. A rush which found its way directly to his groin, a rush which was being gently, if figuratively being stroked by the continued touch of her hands to his leg. A few short days ago he had been worried as to what his body was capable of, he still was, but for very different reasons.

“I…liked….” His usually articulate and assured voice faltered slightly.

Hermione felt a small flush creep through body, at his revelation, at his uncharacteristic openness. That sense of empowerment increased with his faltering words. The woman who had slept in his bed was gaining the upper hand from the professional Hermione was trying to be, but as long as he talked to her and with that same openness, it really didn’t matter who was in charge.

“What did you like Lucius? Tell me.”

Could he really tell this young woman, such intimate and personal feelings? She had done things to him no one had ever done before, she had evoked sensations in him no one had ever evoked before. They had shared sexual experiences that he had never experienced before. Of course he could tell her, he could quite possibly tell her anything. The words formed in his head but refused to leave his lips.

“Tell me Lucius.” Her voice all but purred at him, soft and encouraging.

“I liked that you were so, so vocal.” Lucius felt heat permeate his body, both at the recollection and the fact that he had said the words out loud. 

So respectfully and gracefully put as ever, Hermione managed to contain a smile at his words but was unable to stop the blush which spread slowly across her face, crept down her neck and onto her chest.

“It was impossible not to be.” With her own frankness, she levelled her eyes on Lucius, watching his widen and twinkle at her forthright words.

Talking about something that only they had shared was relatively safe ground, she could both push and provoke him, but at the same time, not anger him.  Talking about something he clearly found a little uncomfortable would also establish trust, build a foundation, although there was also a danger that it could develop into something more than just conversation. Hermione’s body tingled at the thought, realising somewhat shockingly that she was not averse to using any means at her disposal to get Lucius to open up fully to her, all the while maintaining the upper hand. She kept her words equally as frank and perhaps equally as shocking to the dark wizard.

“Good sex it is about mutual enjoyment and trust; it has to be uninhibited.”

Her words hit their mark, once more she saw the surprise in his face, her bluntness clearly not something he was used to.

“That is something I never expected to hear from you, about me at least.”

A small amount of surprise must have been reflected in her own face at his retort. Hermione knew what he was referring to, but as she was provoking him, just a little bit, she thought she would push his buttons, goad him a just a little bit more.

“The good sex or the trust part?”

She saw his mouth twitch, the shock in his face now replaced with a trace of amusement, his eyes glittering devilishly, his response was equally as fast, clearly he was relaxing into the conversation.

“Both. Never in my wildest fantasies would I have imagined you in my bed, doing the things you have done, and beyond that, Hermione Granger using the word trust to me……”

It was a strange scenario on both counts, she had to agree. That not only would Hermione sleep with a man she had once reviled but also that she would trust him on any level, but she did, at least in this instance she did. The little devil seemed to be very much in control of this conversation and where it was going, but Hermione allowed it, feeling it would tell her a lot more, he would tell her a lot more, than a straightforward more pointed question and answers session.

She returned the devilish twinkle in his burning stare with another vixen like smile.

“Without the trust Lucius I would never even have had dinner with you. You think without it I would have ended up on my knees before you, or slept in your bed, twice?”

Lucius grey eyes narrowed, but they remained warm. “You were once described as the brightest witch of your age, something you very much lived up to, I have no doubt that is still very much the case. I would be a fool to doubt those abilities whatever the circumstances.”

“I am flattered by your words Lucius, and your faith in my abilities, however I would not like to put it to the test. Pitting my wits or my abilities against such a formidable adversary as yourself.” She couldn’t help but notice a darkness cross Lucius’ face and quickly lightened her words, not wanting him to retreat so quickly into a place she couldn’t reach. “Even on my knees or naked in your bed.”

She saw the darkness lift immediately, but his eyes remained shadowed with a very different kind of emotion.

“In both instances Hermione, you had me at a distinct disadvantage, your _assault_ on my body and my senses made it impossible for me to muster a coherent sentence, let alone a spell of any kind.”

Hermione felt her flushing skin heat yet further at his words, for someone not used to discussing such intimacies he was certainly adapting quite quickly.

“You liked that I was vocal?” She viewed him from beneath her lashes.

Lucius quirked his head, a blonde brow once more raising in curiosity as she went on.

“I liked that I reduced you to incoherence, the sounds you made were very erotic.”

This time Lucius well and truly flushed, a red patch spreading furiously across his high cheekbones, Hermione’s smile spread across her face with equal ferocity, her hand coming to touch his warm cheek.

“I like how you flush at my words too. Forgive me if this sounds rude in any way, it really isn’t meant to be, I find it almost impossible to believe that a man of your experience would be discomfited in such a way.”

Lucius felt his face flush all the more at her observation, but was more concerned at how other parts of his body were responding to her touch, coupled with the conversation he was becoming increasingly aroused.

“I do not find your observation rude, the answer is quite simple and I trust that you will not find my response offensive either. We are of a very different age and of a very different upbringing, such things were not discussed openly, even between couples.”

“I don’t find it offensive at all, it stands to reason on both counts. I find it a little sad though.”

Hermione watched his reaction carefully, wondering if he would be affronted by her remark or be curious. Curiosity clearly won the day.

“Sad, how so?”

“Well I find talking to you now about it, about what we shared, to use a horrible word, nice. I would hate it, if as adults we couldn’t do that.”

Nice was an understatement, in fact nice was quite possibly the understatement of the year. She was thoroughly enjoying talking to Lucius about what they had shared, even if she did have a slightly underlying ulterior motive.  Reliving it with him, even only in words was beyond erotic, his reactions and his revelations heating her blood, she found herself wantonly needing to push him further.

“Be honest with me Lucius, isn’t it _nice_ to know what I enjoyed, to be able to tell me what you liked, what you wanted. To not talk about it, would mean that you never got to enjoy those things again, and why should that be the case?”

Lucius had never looked at it from that perspective before, well quite frankly, it had never been a consideration before. Sex in the Malfoy bedroom, was very artless, well that was until last night. The only time Lucius Malfoy had come on his back, was when he had had to take matters in his own hands, it had never been with a partner.  She had asked him to be honest and it was the one thing he promised himself he would be with her. He hoped that his own blatant honesty would not disgust or frighten her in any way.

“Yes” He admitted quietly, his voice more than a little husky. “Yes it is, strange, but stimulating at the same time, that you are able to share these things with me so openly and without reservation. I have to confess, whilst enjoying it, reciprocation does not come quite so easily to me.”

Hermione instinctively knew he was no longer just eluding to the sex.

Lucius shifted in his chair, his mind was focused on the conversation, his body was already one step ahead. It took an awful lot for him to speak his next words.

“I would have liked to have woken up and found you in my bed.” There he had said it.

It had been the first thing he had wanted to say to her when he had entered the sitting room, no it had been the first question he had wanted to ask her, but courage had once more failed the dark wizard.  He had no right to expect that she would remain in his bed or that she would even want to, he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear her response now, but for some reason he needed to know.

Oddly his words did not come as any surprise to Hermione, a little while ago she had been sitting in this very chair contemplating how the day would start once Lucius awoke, her brain not playing ball with her deliberations. But in the back of her mind this had been one of the ways, possibly he would be curious as to why she had left, ironically it needed the least thought to address and she did so without preamble.

“The first time I woke up in your bed Lucius, I was alone.”  Hermione spoke assuredly, but carefully, there was a fine line between provocation and angering.

“Whilst under no illusions of what I might expect, I didn’t expect it to go the way it did. I had at least hoped we might have enjoyed breakfast together, maybe even stayed in bed.” Hermione felt a little rush of heat at her own admission.  “But I suppose neither us were prepared to outside influences.”

Lucius remained silent, his blood and his temper boiling at the recollections of that Sunday morning.  His feelings running parallel with Hermione’s; he too had hoped the morning, maybe if he was lucky, the day, would have gone very differently. It had taken every inch of willpower he possessed not to find Rita Skeeter right there and then, and do something monstrous to her, had it not been for the young witch sleeping peacefully in his bed, he might well have done just that. He remembered glancing at her sleeping form, the beautiful and totally unexpected vision etched on his memory. He could still see her now with inordinate clarity, wrapped in the crumpled white bedding, her hair fanned out wildly across the pillows, even in sleep a look of blissful serenity covering her face. And then he had seen the newspaper on the breakfast tray, his own face looking back at him, his eyes darting in fear as he clutched his prison number. Nausea rose in his throat, just as it had done then. Everything had come tumbling around him, the hateful headlines screaming such blatant untruths, but who would care about truth when they were reading about Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius had realised in that moment, that he would never shake off the chains of the past, the chains of Azkaban that would forever shackle him there, to the things he had done. For a few hours, despite talking about the sins of that past, he had been allowed to forget about them, ironically in the arms of a young woman who was very much a part of that past and of those sins. But as he had reread the headline and looked at his own image, he understood whilst being allowed to forget momentarily, he would never be free of them and he didn’t deserve to be.

Bringing himself back to the present and to that same young woman now sitting in his home, he felt a certain sense of relief, if he was being honest with himself, part of him already knew why he had woken up yet again alone in his large bed, but to hear her say the words aloud was oddly liberating, as if that was simply _all_ there was to it.

“Last night I asked you if you wanted me to go back to my room, you said no. But you had just woken from what I assume was a pretty horrific nightmare, you needed someone, you needed something. It did not necessarily follow that you would want or need me there when you woke up.”

For a moment it looked as if Lucius was about to speak, but he remained silent, watching her intently. Hermione went on.

 “I didn’t want to put you, or myself come to that in that position. It was perhaps the coward’s way out but I chose to leave. I am also here on Ministry business Lucius, sleeping with you is not very professional.”

She added the last part more for herself than for Lucius, trying to remind herself there was actually a purpose to her being in this house, because it was all too easy to forget that. It was also too easy to forget which purpose it was, even the Ministry business was a façade.

So wise for someone so young Lucius thought silently, studying the sincere face of the young woman before him. It was easy to see why she was held in such high regard by Shacklebolt and others within the Ministry. Lucius prided himself on his eloquent way with words, the benefits of such an upbringing and education, the benefit of age. Without sounding rude once more, Hermione had none of those things and yet here she was a mere slip of a girl, articulating herself so beautifully and so accurately with him.

“I have said this before Hermione and I will defy anyone to tell me otherwise. Cowardliness is something that you could never be accused of, I would say after my behaviour the last time it was more a case of self-preservation, which I understand completely.  I was most ungentlemanly, anger clouding my judgement, as you are now aware talking about such things is not really my forte, in that respect, I do think you have your professionalism cut out.  My way of dealing with such situations now is to walk away, avoid them escalating, which could get a person such as I into a huge amount of trouble. However, sometimes that does prove difficult, and one occasionally slips, if perhaps not on such a perilous scale.  Although I will admit that morning, it took every inch of self-discipline that I had not take matters into my own hands, and that scared me.”

It was both sad and strange to hear a man like Lucius Malfoy admit to being scared. For all of the things he had done, he was a once powerful man, who was so proud of his heritage and his family name. The intervening years since she had first encountered the former Death Eater had undoubtedly changed him, the stay in Azkaban and the ill-fated affiliation with the Dark lord leaving him, broken and a shell of the man he used to be. She knew the Lucius Malfoy of old would have taken swift retribution on both the Daily Prophet and the odious Rita Skeeter, and she really couldn’t have blamed him. In an odd sort of way, she missed the darkness that he had once exuded. Oh she knew it was still there, a man like Lucius Malfoy could not change so completely but it was beaten down and controlled, leaving him jaded.

“Sometimes Lucius it does us good to let go of our emotions, keeping them pent up can be equally as dangerous.”

“Even if it can hurt others?” He asked quietly, shamefully.

Hermione was quick to respond to his question and equally as quick to justify her response.

“Yes, I think so, in certain circumstances. We can hurt people in many different ways.  My mother used to have a saying about hurting the people you care about. You do so quite simply because you can, it is easy to lash out at them, because they know you, they care, they understand and most of all they will forgive you, even if sometimes forgiveness takes time.”

Although she saw Lucius eyes darken once more and felt the tension return to his body, she knew he understood what she was trying to say, and she did not falter in her honesty with him.

“You did hurt me that morning.” She saw the withdrawal in his face, but continued.

 “Yes I was bruised, I was scratched and I was even bitten from the night we had spent together, but there was no pain involved just pure pleasure. I told you that.  The pain you inflected on me was, despite all of that, it wasn’t physical, you shut me out, you practically threw me out. So yes I suppose this morning was, as you say about self-preservation. I wasn’t about to put myself through that again, nor did I want to see the self-loathing in yours eyes at what you had done. **You** hadn’t done anything, **we** had.”

Hermione could feel her temper rising, biting her bottom lip, she reigned it in, she didn’t want to vent her anger on Lucius she wanted him to understand, just as she had done that Sunday morning.

Whilst feeling suitably chastised about his actions that Sunday morning, Lucius could not withhold the smile which danced along his lips, or contain the heat which pulsed through his body. He loved to see this fiery Hermione Granger, the young woman who stood up to him, who showed him no fear, and the young woman who was also perfectly right in every observation that she made, in everything that she said.

“I have no defence for my actions Hermione. As has been the case of late, I have found myself in situations that are completely new to me and it would appear I handle them badly.”

Hermione didn’t want to keep punishing Lucius for his lack of comprehension, she simply wanted him to see the bigger picture, to know that there was one, things were not always just black and white. That wasn’t going to be achieved by harping on, there would be time enough for more in-depth and darker conversations, but getting him to talk to her in this open and honest way was a good start, thus she returned to her original plan, keeping it personal and resorting to whatever tactics it took to help this most formidable of men.

“Not all of them Lucius.” Her brown eyes twinkled mischievously. “Some I thought you handled very well.”

Again this feisty young woman turned the tables on him, the double entendre in her words, making him smile, easing the tension and making the body he was trying so desperately to control, twitch still harder.

 


	45. Carpe Diem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Lucius continue their "conversation" ........ enjoy .........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK my faithful readers, normal service almost resumed. A little bonus chapter for the Bank Holiday weekend here in the UK. My thanks as always for your kind words, comments and Kudos. My apologies as always for any annoying little errors and however they find there way in :-(

 

Hermione could almost see Lucius’ mind ticking over, legilimency would be nowhere near as much fun as asking the dark wizard what he was thinking. She didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable in any way, in fact getting him to relax completely was really the key to everything.  But right now, well this was something else entirely, their frank and intimate conversation seemed to be having a strange effect on him.  Hermione returned both her hands to the leg that was still resting lightly upon the other. She was becoming quite adept at reading his face, his micro mannerisms, and she noticed him shift once more in the chair, his pupils dilating as his eyes remained fixed upon her. His nostrils flared as he tilted his head back slightly, it was as if he were about to say something but decided against it, something holding him back.  Hermione’s curiosity was rampant, but not as rampant as the little devil, who seemed to have an agenda all of his own this morning.

“May I ask you a retrospective question too Lucius?”

Once more she felt a trace of tension seep into the muscles beneath her fingers, his face remained unreadable, although she thought she saw a tiny glimmer of disappointment flicker in his grey eyes. Hermione’s poker face when it came to Lucius had proved rather unsuccessful on previous attempts. She worked hard to keep it straight now, her warm brown eyes watching him carefully, like his, her mouth was set in a sombre, thin line. Speaking she kept any inflections out of her voice, save the seriousness she was trying to convey.

“Off course Hermione, it is after all what you are here for, and when I agreed to do this, I made a promise to myself to be as honest with you as I could.”

“That is very laudable of your Lucius. This will work much better if you maintain that. I appreciate it.”

Her tones were once more very professional and a little cool, Lucius felt the disappointment ebbing into his veins. Clearly she had meant what she said. Her words about sleeping with him, being unprofessional had had more impetus that he had assumed and the ever diligent Hermione Granger was now very much in what could be termed work mode. He found the hands which remained on his leg more than a little distracting and hoped that if she wished to start working as such, she would remove them.

Hermione tried to keep her body language as inscrutable as her face, she straightened her spine but kept her hands exactly where they were.

“I will endeavour to do the same. You must feel free to ask me anything you wish, about anything. I feel that it is only fair as you have been so accommodating.” She felt a small sigh escape from the dark wizard and struggled to keep both her facial expressions and bodily movements in check.

“So Hermione, please ask your question, what do you wish to know?”

He felt those slim fingers moving against the rough wool of the trousers he wore, abrading the material against his skin, the sensation travelling up his leg, she really had to stop this if the conversation was to continue on a more serious l level. He shifted in an attempt to dissuade any further movement on her part.

“I would like to know Lucius.” Hermione lowered her voice, the tone soft and breathy.

“What would you have done, if you’d woken up and found me in your bed this morning?”

Lucius kept his face straight and unreadable, quickly emulating the young witch before him. The disappointment which had been slowly seeping into his veins was chased away by uninhibited excitement, heat and blood rushing to every extremity. The warm fingers that had up until now been resting innocuously against his leg, save the odd reassuring squeeze, seemed to take on new life, eliciting a very different response in him.

“Ah if only I had a time turner, such a shame.” His tone was sadly resigned and flippant, a devilish twinkle lit his eyes, eyes that did not leave her for a moment.

“Indeed, never mind.” Hermione smiled inwardly, a few hours ago she had also wished for the very same object, but now she was quite happy exactly where she was.

She had the patience to play his game, but from the look on his face and the further uncomfortable shift Lucius made, she wasn’t sure he did.  She had loved his revelation, on two separate occasions now, that he enjoyed the new experiences she had subjected him to. Hermione had only anticipated this being a continuation of their conversation, of their intimate confessions to each other, getting him to open up and feel comfortable discussing such personal things, but she had a feeling, whilst enjoying their banter, Lucius was in fact struggling with just talk.  She, and the little devil were developing a theory. Her hand moved slowly up his leg, the action in no way sexual, in fact it became a simple placating pat to the front of his thigh, but she couldn’t help noticing another very illuminating alteration in his position.

“I am sorry Lucius; it was wrong of me to ask.” She saw his eyes darken and could once more see his equally dark thoughts racing.

“Why don’t we simply go back to bed and find out.” His suggestion was blasé, as if he were suggesting tea.

Hermione was more than a little taken back by his words and his sudden suggestion, another small piece of that infamous restraint visibly crumbling, nonetheless her body sang out it delight, as did her mind, happy that he would speak quite so freely. She quickly reapplied her poker face, a small dismayed frown creasing her brow.

“I don’t think so Lucius, the moment has passed now.”

She inserted a perfectly timed paused, watching the consternation on Lucius handsome face grow, watching his mind race for a solution without being forceful in any way. in its own way it was another small breakthrough. Her fingers stopped moving on his thigh, but her thumb gently and somewhat erotically begin to circle its inner side. Her eye line, travelled from where her hand connected with dark material of his well-pressed trousers, slowly taking in the tautness as it stretched over his burgeoning arousal, noticing the increased rise and fall in his chest as his breathing became a little shallow. Verbally sparring with Lucius was always entertaining, she knew that the eloquent wordsmith enjoyed their interactions. This time the stakes were perhaps a little different.

“The spontaneity of a new moment is always so much more fun don’t you think?”

Lucius had no clue what to think, certainly not about this. He wasn’t sure he was even capable of thought, well rational thought that was, his suggestion to return to bed clearly indicating that, and surprising even himself.

Every ounce of his being, as a man wanted to spring up, throw her on the soft pale rug spread before the flickering fire and quite literally spread her before him.  This was definitely **not** rational thought, in fact Lucius had never had such a lecherously unchecked thought in his life. He had clearly taken leave of his senses, Narcissa would have been disgusted, thinking he had lost his mind completely.

Images of Hermione on the soft sable rug raced across his mind, her slender body prone on the floor, his own powerful, hard body slowly covering her, as he thrust into her willing heat. He banished them quickly, trying to picture her more tastefully laid across his soft bedding. The image however was nowhere near as erotic or arousing and it faded quickly. He tried not to look at the thick rug in front of the fireplace.

Hermione could see the struggle going on behind Lucius’ pale grey eyes. Every movement, every nuance in his body language told her just how aroused he was, that he wanted her. Even after such a short time, and ignoring the more obvious signs, she could read him remarkably well. It was as if some invisible magical fetters were holding him back. It suddenly occurred to the young witch of their surroundings, this was after all Narcissa’s sitting room, it would stand to reason he would not feel comfortable doing anything in here. Hermione silently chided herself for such thoughtlessness, but something instinctively told her that it was more than that. Both he and Draco had told her, he never came into this room so it was unlikely he had any associations, good or otherwise with it. Perhaps it was simply that infamous Malfoy restraint once more holding him back, but she had already admonished him for that.

Hermione had practically jumped the dark wizard’s bones twice already and whilst he had confessed to enjoying what she had done to him, she really wasn’t sure she could instigate such intimacy a third time. Merlin alone knew what he would think of her if she did. A little voice in the back of her mind tried to remind her about professionalism, the little devil shooed it away, wickedly flaming another thought. Perhaps a little reverse physical psychology might have the desired effect; the little devil sat back smugly.  Hermione smiled gently and apologetically at Lucius, withdrawing her hand. His steely fingers curled around her slim wrist with lightning speed, they hardly touched her flesh and this time his grasp left no mark, but loosely shackled around her slim wrist they prevented any further withdrawal. Her sparkling brown eyes drifted slowly to meet his molten silver gaze.

“Carpe diem Lucius.” She said, her voice breathy but assured. Her tone quiet and leading.

In a strong and impossibly deft movement, Hermione found herself in Lucius Malfoy’s lap, their height difference, putting her face on a level with his. His beautiful luminous eyes glinted, a definite smirk lifted his sensual mouth, the harsh line it had been set in vanishing in an instant. For a moment she saw the powerful dark wizard she remembered from her childhood, his imperious presence in utter control. Her heart raced frantically in her chest, that commanding power of the man making her pulse race, thrilling her body. His long elegant fingers wound their way into her hair and he pulled her face forward, his mouth was millimetres from her own, so close she could feel his warm breath against her cheek. Hermione made no attempt to move whatsoever, whatever happened next was entirely down to Lucius Malfoy, she would go wherever he lead.

Being here like this, with him of all people was beyond the realm of any reason, but right now she didn’t want to make sense of the situation, the way her body was responding to him, it would be futile exercise anyway.  She had told Lucius that sleeping with him, being in his bed was unprofessional, she had no idea what heading this would come under, and she really wasn’t sure she could justify her actions by convincing herself that she was in some way helping him.  But professional or not Hermione couldn’t think beyond the immediate pleasure that was engulfing her body,

His lips were as firm and exquisitely soft as she remembered, she hadn’t felt their touch since the night in the hotel, and even after such brevity she had missed them, revelling in their glorious, slow assault on her senses.  They moved sweetly against her own with a drugging passion that drifted through her entire body. His tongue swept across the seam of her lips, parting them with enticing ease, slipping inside her mouth to explore the wetness beyond. His tongue brushed against her own with an erotic silkiness that caused a small whimper like sound to leave her body. Hermione found herself surrendering into the increasing hunger of his embrace. He cradled her slight body to his own powerful frame, his strong arms tightening around her as he pulled her yet closer, feasting on her mouth as his kiss deepened. But there was no urgency, no force, it was just a languorous deliciously warm lashing. He took his time, merely relishing the feel of her mouth beneath his, her tongue against his, her body clasped to him.  Hermione was on fire from his kisses alone, save to hold her to him, his hands did not move, every emotion he elicited from her, every sensation he aroused in her, he did simply with the unhurried and deliberate caress of his warm lips and probing tongue.

There was always that very small part of Hermione’s brain which thought with logic and clarity, whatever the situation, and at this moment it was indeed a very small part, but it still wondered how a man of such darkness and violence, could be so tender and so sensual.

It was with that same unexpected tenderness and sensuality that Hermione found herself deposited on the large rug that stretched before the fire, its softness against her now bare skin.  Lucius having returned the _favour_ from the hotel and magically disposing of her clothing. She raised him a neatly plucked brow, her eyes wandering questioningly over his still fully clad form. With a barely discernible utterance, he too was naked. Maybe one day they would enjoy the delights of slowly removing each other’s clothing the Muggle way, savouring the moment. Hermione found it strange to admit that she truly hoped so. The little voice of clarity and logic reminded her that right now baby steps were needed, whatever the scenario.  Lucius Malfoy might be an older man, more experienced in many ways, at many things, but this clearly wasn’t one of those things.  The notion sent an odd little thrill through Hermione along with a fresh rush of arousal.

She took in his magnificently naked form, just as imposing and formidable stripped bare as he was fully clothed. Even in his nudity everything about this man exuded, authority and control, a hint of that arrogance and supremacy that she had always associated with the dark wizard, from the very top of his aristocratic blonde head to his ridiculously elegant feet. But from his brief words, from his slightly hesitant actions and from the fact, although fully aroused he did not look entirely at ease, the young witch was under the distinct impression that any sexual activity at Malfoy Manor was not entirely spontaneous and was strictly confined to the bedroom, that was how it was meant to be, perhaps had always been.  Sex in broad daylight, a little after breakfast time, in a downstairs parlour, on the floor, it was enough to pale even a gloriously naked and very hard Malfoy.


	46. The Instincts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So where were we aah yes the rug..... enjoy.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I am so sorry it appears chapter 45 remained in draft form, I have no idea why, but I hope it hasn't spoiled your enjoyment.
> 
> Normal service, well perhaps almost. I've had a really rough and sad week, so I hope you will forgive just about anything today. Couldn't let you down as I promised another chapter.

 

It was an almost tentative Lucius Malfoy whose warm, powerful body came to lie alongside her own on the soft rug.

Physically he was more than ready, his body, glorious in its unashamed arousal. But for all of his bravado, his mind seemed slightly more reticent. Hermione knew it wasn’t her, she even knew in a way it had nothing to do with their surroundings, she put it down simply to years of breeding, conditioning even, that made this situation so foreign to the dark wizard. No that wasn’t it, it wasn’t reticence at all, it was bloody restraint, actually as she thought about it, Hermione realised it wasn’t even that, it was reserve, incredibly an almost shy formality.

Hermione’s ever active brain couldn’t quite believe that a man like Lucius Malfoy, powerful, authoritative, dominant, passionate in so many ways had never been so overwhelmed with the desire for a woman, that he hadn’t seduced her, given in to his baser instincts and taken her, right there and then. Breeding or no breeding he was first and foremost a man. A man, whose hard body now brushed virtually uncertainly against her own.

She knew very little, if anything, about Lucius as a young man, only little snippets that she had heard and overheard. That of course did not include his personal life per se, but from what she did know, Lucius Malfoy been with Narcissa Black, as she then was, since they were Hogwarts together, their marriage had spanned over two decades. She found it very hard to believe, but realised things were different then, that he and Narcissa had not indulged in some quick teenage fumbling’s or sex, or that in later years this had been confined to their bedroom here at the manor.

For a moment Draco’s mother flitted across the young witch’s mind; Hermione had only encountered her on a couple of previous occasions, neither under particularly auspicious circumstances. Like Draco and oddly a little like her husband, she was tall and slender, with predominantly blonde hair and icy unfriendly blue eyes. Hermione had never seen her without that look that she had smelled something unpleasant pinned to her small, sharp features, a look that was accentuated in her clear, cold voice. Frigid had been the word that immediately sprung to mind on the occasions when she had come across the older witch. Perhaps it was _her_ breeding which had dictated her husband’s behaviour, Hermione knew that whatever Lucius Malfoy’s shortcomings were, he would only have had the utmost respect for his wife and her wishes. Admirable, of course, but Hermione Granger was no Narcissa Malfoy, not by any stretch of the imagination.

Lucius leaned into Hermione, heat radiating from his body, but they didn’t touch, his lips brushing gently over hers, as he raised a hand to push an errant strand of hair from her pretty, flushed face.  Moving back once more his grey blue eyes searched hers.

“Yet again Hermione, with such consummate ease you put me in a situation I am unaccustomed to, and once more I find myself handling it badly.”

A gentle reassuring smile curled Hermione’s lips and this time it was she who reached out to touch Lucius’ hair, not that it was out of place in any way, Merlin forbid. She did it, simply because she wanted to, she loved its lustrous feel between her fingers, and enjoyed the fact, that after all of those years of wondering, she could now just reach out and touch it.

“From time to time Lucius, inevitably, we all find ourselves in situations which are new to us. There isn’t always a right or wrong way to handle them, we just go with what feels right to us at the time. You of all people understand that, I know.”

Lucius of course knew she was right, and he knew she wasn’t just talking about the situation now. He once again found her words relating to his past, oddly reassuring, the reason for which, he still didn’t understand.

“But……. I…...but….” He knew what felt right to him, he knew exactly what he wanted to do, his body was practically aching with need, but something in his mind held him back, refused to allow him to satisfy his own desires in this way.

This was an odd moment for what Hermione thought of as a counselling session, but it was obvious that he needed some reassurance, for her to tell him that whatever he needed, it was ok. They had come this far, the rest should be easy, shouldn’t it?

Her voice was quiet but firm as she spoke: “Lucius, when I came into your bedroom last night, it was as you put it, a situation I was unaccustomed to. Yes, I had been there before, but, well let’s just say the circumstances were a little different.” She continued to stroke his hair, twisting it distractedly around her fingers. 

“But just like the first _visit,_ I had no idea what I was walking into, on both occasions I went with my instincts. Last night my instincts took a very different path, but I didn’t know if I was handling the situation rightly or wrongly, again, there was no right or wrong answer. Your reactions, your words, they were my guidance. If you’d have said no, go back to your room, I would have gone, but you didn’t. Sometimes things aren’t just black and white.”

Lucius looked at her with a peculiar resigned look in his face. So many things held him back, restrained by so many shackles from his past. But also from the future, if that was even possible. Lucius Malfoy had learnt the hard way, how difficult it was to escape from your past, if you ever could. Those things were so completely different to the here and now of course, but he didn’t want anything he might do now, anything he might do wrong now, effecting the future. In some way he found that more constricting than anything that had gone before. He flinched slightly as he felt Hermione, release the strand of hair she had been playing with, her soft fingers once more touching his face and bringing his thoughts and his body very much back to the present.

Hermione decided to go along with her little bit of physical reverse psychology, she needed to be harder on Lucius, knocking down the walls around him was perhaps going to take more than just kid gloves. Her usual forthrightness and perhaps a sledgehammer might be required from time to time.

“This is hardly an everyday occurrence for me. Naked in a house, where I was tortured, in the arms of the man who stood by and allowed it to happen.”

Hermione saw the look in his eyes, abject horror, utter shame and restrained anger all at once. She felt the recoil in his body, saw his already pale skin become yet paler, but as a little frisson of fear danced along her spine, her fingers continued to softly, reassuringly, stroke his pulsating jaw, her determined brown eyes refusing to allow him to break eye contact with her.

“Am I handling it the right way Lucius? Is there a right or a wrong way to handle such a bizarre twist of fate?  Since we first met at the ministry event, since you first invited me to dinner, I have simply gone with my own instincts, with what I have felt is right, what I believe is the right thing to do, **now**.”

Despite Hermione’s harsh comparison, an aide-mémoire he did not need, Lucius’ grey blue gaze softened, a small amount of understanding flickering in their depths.  The fire in his body had diminished at her severe, brutal, words of his previously unspeakable behaviour, but as she continued to speak and reassuringly stroke his cheek, his neck; it began to burn once more.

“It was those same instincts that brought me here, allowed me to walk back into this house, into your bedroom in the dead of night and ultimately allowed you to put me here.” She ran a tender, yet firm finger along the strong line of his jaw, ensuring he did not, could not, look away.

“My instincts as a man, as a husband, even as a father, they are inured through ancestry, a pureblood lineage which goes back centuries. What is expected of a Malfoy man is different, my instincts, if you can even call them that, they are not as other men or as yours are, they are not spontaneous or natural, they are imparted. And as you are more than well aware, and as you just reminded me, those instincts Hermione, have not always served me well.”

Hermione could protract this into a very long conversation, she too, right now, very much on the precipice as to what was right and what was wrong in how to handle Lucius, she went very much with her gut instincts, unlike him, they **had** served her well in the past.

“But you still have them Lucius, your own very natural instincts, simply as a man. I can see it in your face, I can feel it in your body, but you fight them.” Hermione’s hand rested against Lucius shoulder.

She made no sexual advances towards him, and despite the fact they were both naked on the floor, kept the conversation remarkably professional, that little voice reminding her, whatever it took, whatever the situation, baby steps if needs be.

He had said his instincts had not served him well, she knew that was a generalisation, but again thinking about it, all be it briefly, Hermione knew those too were borne of that pureblood ancestry of which he spoke. In fact, she was more convinced than ever, everything Lucius Malfoy had done, up until the moment they had become reacquainted, had been part of that supreme pureblood breeding, and was very much the root of all of his issues now. This wasn’t the time or the place to tackle those, and it might be a lot easier to do so going forward, if she could get him to go with his baser instincts now, allow himself that unconstrained freedom.

“However hard you try to control and even hide them, those male instincts you have are still there, and to me, very much in evidence. A little goading from me aside, those very instincts are why we are both naked on a rug, on the floor in your home. I think the question is Lucius, whether you choose to act on them as a man or as a _Malfoy man.”_

His answer did not come in the form of words, and evidently it took the dark wizard but a moment to decide between the two.  But despite the swiftness of his action, it was extraordinarily gentle and sensually measured, starting with another glorious assault on her mouth. His lips caressing her own, teasing them apart and allowing him access to the delights beyond. His large, firm hands took a similarly measured path with her body, gently moving over it, caressing her silky skin

Lucius Malfoy had always done exactly what was expected of him, in everything. Right now as a man he was acutely aware that Hermione Granger’s expectations were very different to anything he had experienced in the past, the peculiar thing was, he knew whatever he did he would not disappoint or repulse her in any way. Just as she had said, things were not always black or white and there simply was no right or wrong.  It was a knowledge that seemed to remove an even greater weight from the dark wizard’s shoulders, again as well as finding himself in a situation he had never been in before, Lucius also found himself being able to be just that once more; himself.

Finally releasing her lips, he spoke, the feeling of being himself with her, so blissful it surpassed everything else, and Lucius found it drifting into his words.

“This is quite possibly a very strange thing to say, and at quite possibly a very inopportune moment to say it.” His cut glass tones were low and husky

“But, you remind me of so many of the awful things I have done in my past Hermione, things I am desperately ashamed of, despite all of that, I feel I can be myself with you, be that good or bad.”

Hermione responded without hesitation. “It’s good.” Her voice was just above a whisper, the short sentence speaking volumes to the young witch, on so many levels.

“That you can be yourself with me, I like that, although it sounds very odd admitting it, especially to you.” The words out loud did sound very strange, that she would want Lucius Malfoy to be himself with her defied belief.

“I like that you are honest with me too. Perhaps mentioning your son is equally as strange and inopportune.” She noticed a little flicker of curiosity in those piercing grey eyes, their intimacy slipping easily into a conversation which was equally as meaningful.

“But when Draco and I met at the Ministry Party, I think we kind of gravitated towards each other because we were the only person the other one knew.”

His hand caressed her arm as she spoke, not wanting to break the closeness and keeping the underlying current crackling.

“But it was very awkward, we had never been friends. We didn’t know what to say to each other, in the end we both decided it was weird and just agreed to move on. We couldn’t change the past, but we could make it just that, the past.  In a very different kind of way you and I have done the same.”

“A very different way.” Those grey eyes twinkled. “I find myself questioning over and over, how can that, how can this, possibly be? Lying here now, last night and of course, the night I do not recall very well, each time I thought I was dreaming. Even before we became…. intimate.”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile at his choice of words, always so proper and respectful. Again those years of breeding, but again still, so strange that he would be proper and respectful to her.

“After we met at the Ministry Event, you found your way into my dreams a couple of times, it was such a pleasant change from the nightmares. The morning after we had dinner, I thought I had dreamt that. I was so disappointed when I woke up, but then I remembered it wasn’t a dream and that was why I had woken up in a strange bed. But then after we spent the night together, after that morning, I tried to banish you from my dreams.”

His gentle almost shy smile made Hermione’s heart leap in her chest, the fingers which caressed her arm, seeming to touch every part of her. 

It was easy to guess why he had tried to banish her from his dreams, probably for similar reasons why she would not allow herself to think about him when she was in Azkaban. She didn’t want to question him about that or his nightmares, not now, he was, despite the strange tract the conversation had taken, and the fact there were totally naked, in broad daylight on the floor, quite relaxed. Reminding him of the article in The Daily Prophet and the darkness that haunted his sleep, would serve no purpose at this moment.

“I like that you dreamt about me.” She noticed a wicked glint seep into his widening grey eyes.

“You might not have liked what I dreamt.” The glint, became a glitter, a tiny, teasing smirk curling that sensual mouth of his.

Hermione responded in the same way: “Well unless you tell me, I couldn’t possibly comment.” Hermione’s own brown eyes narrowed devilishly, one of her vixen like smiles lifting her lips.

“No”. The word was harsh and for a moment a little trickle of fear crawled along Hermione’s spine.

“I am done talking Hermione.”

With that his mouth came down hard one hers, her body on fire and responding to him immediately. She found herself sinking further into the luxurious softness of the rug as his weight came down on top of her, his body filling hers in a gloriously unhurried and sensual movement. The action so sweet and so erotic it robbed her of breath, a low moan of appreciation emanating from them both simultaneously as their bodies were once more joined. 

 


	47. Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You might not be the only one not expecting this ;-) enjoy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well normal service is hopefully now resumed with no more patch seaside internet. So my heartfelt thanks for comments and kudos whilst I was away. I as ever apologise for any errors blah blah and hope you enjoy this next chapter.

 

“Granger!”

Hermione’s heart felt as if were about to leap from her chest, despite the roaring fire she felt chilled to the very bone. It was impossible to pinpoint the dominating emotion in Draco Malfoy’s exclamation of her name, surprise, shock, anger, horror even disgust, they were all mixed in there somewhere, in that one simple, loudly shrieked word.

The same array of emotions widened his light blue eyes, and whitened his already ashen complexion, his pallor seemingly highlighted by faintest hint of a flush which stung his high cheekbones. Other than the exclamation of her name, Draco’s mouth didn’t seem to know what to do. His thin lips curled slightly, turning what could possibly have been a knowing smile, into a distinct Malfoy sneer.

The hand which had flung open the door, to what had once been his mother’s sitting room, still firmly grasped the heavy metal handle. His knuckles white as snow against the darkness of the wood behind them, Hermione could see the tension in his fingers racing up his arm, settling in his face and pulsating in a small muscle, just above his jaw. The other hand was pushed deeply into the pocket of the black trousers her wore. Hermione was equally certain the fingers on that hand were similarly clenched with tension, with anger.  Everything about the tall young blonde’s body language exuded rage and disbelief. But beyond that Hermione could see the other much deeper emotions that coursed through Lucius’ son, she could see hurt, she could see disappointment but most of all she could see betrayal.

Lucius had told her the previous evening, Merlin’s teeth, had it really _only_ been the previous evening, right now it felt like a lifetime ago. That his son would be away for a few days, he hadn’t elaborated on whether the visit had been planned, or had been a result of her coming to the manor, and she hadn’t thought to ask. The conversation had quickly moved on, but she was certain he had said that; a few days. She had assumed, obviously rather naively that Draco would stay two or three days, possibly even a week with Narcissa. The younger Malfoy wasn’t working, that she knew, and from what she could gather from their previous conversations, he was hardly inundated with social engagements, that he would need to return so quickly. His abrupt return was to say the least very unexpected and most inopportune.

A long uneasy silence hung in the bright room, no one spoke, the air crackled with an atmosphere you could cut with a knife. Hermione felt it was her place to speak.

“Draco, I am so sorry, I should have told you, you shouldn’t have found out like this.” She shifted awkwardly trying to hide her embarrassment.

Under his penetrative, unwavering, unforgiving blue gaze, so reminiscent of Lucius, heat burned her face, her neck and her shoulders, drifting lower and flushing across her chest.

She should have told Draco, but then that wasn’t really her call to make. Despite their conversations, their meetings, their agreement, Hermione felt this conversation, this revelation should have come directly from his father, if of course he wanted to have that conversation or make that revelation at all.

The young witch desperately tried to regain her composure, taking a deep steadying breath and attempting to square her shoulders, not easy in her current position.  Her heart beat yet faster and sank still further when Draco withdrew the hand buried deep in his pocket and raised it to silence her, clearly not wanting to hear anything she might have to say.  For a moment she thought he was about to turn on his heel and leave, and who could blame him finding her here, so unexpectedly like this. In a now rather familiar gesture of exasperation, the younger Malfoy ran his long fingers through his hair.

“Don’t” He said his voice, like his eyes, as cold and sharp as his father’s.

Oh Lucius, Hermione pleaded silently, help!

Draco entered the room fully, Hermione heard him mutter what she thought to be “colloportus”. Her suspicions confirmed as the door closed abruptly behind him, what was on earth was he thinking, what was he going to do? How would Lucius react.

“I don’t know what to say.  How….why?”

The hurt in Draco’s blue eyes, was still very much in evidence, but the anger in them and in his body subsided as he sank down into the chair Hermione usually took to occupying.  After Lucius had excused himself a few minutes before, she like him, had replaced her clothing, but she had remained seated on the soft rug in front of the fire.  As she now sat looking up into the face of his son, she thanked her lucky stars that Draco had not arrived some ten minutes earlier, that would have been a truly very different scenario. She envisaged heated words and spells filling the air.

Flooded with guilt, the young witch had automatically assumed the reason for Draco’s untimely return, and his disposition was down to her, that clearly wasn’t the case, it was something else entirely.  Having attributed his reaction to her and Lucius, and been wrong, she could only but assume that it had something to do with his mother.

Hermione thought quickly and trod even more carefully, realising that Draco’s questions and his reactions, simply related to her presence here in his home, all be it alone with his father. But she doubted very much, his mind was running along that path, he hadn’t given that a second thought, his mind very obviously somewhere else.  She recalled his last questions, if you could call them that, how and why, applied them to herself and went with the answer she hoped Draco wanted.

“More than a little subterfuge with both Kingsley Shacklebolt and your father, but both of them seemed _happy_ enough, to go along with my suggestion or dare I say cunning plan. Cutting a long story short, they both think your father is helping _me_ for the greater good of the wizarding world.”

Her tone was blithe and she remained seated on the rug, almost at Draco’s feet, trying to keep both her tone and the conversation light, as if this were an everyday occurrence, but ever mindful that Lucius would return at any moment and be caught off guard. She wasn’t sure what his poker face was like or how he would react to finding his son returned home quite so quickly, still certain, Draco had cut his visit short.

“Still the smartest witch of her age then Granger.” Accepting her explanation, a small but genuine smile graced Draco’s face, the hateful sneer of earlier vanishing, his manner becoming slightly less belligerent.

Hermione noticed the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, they were still distant, laced with sadness and with an odd bright anger, which she now knew wasn’t directed at her.

“Well you know how it is Malfoy.” Hermione kept the humour in her voice, resorting back to their school addresses for each other in her response. Nonchalantly getting around to asking about his trip.

“Anyway, how was your trip, your father said you would be gone for a few days.”

His blue eyes came to meet her brown, anger bubbled in their depths and Hermione smiled brightly at him, ignoring the fact she had seen it.

“I had planned on spending the week. When my father was called to the Ministry, I knew you were probably behind it, I thought he might be in town for a few days, so I would take the opportunity to visit my mother whilst I had the chance.”

“Seems like a good idea.” Her smile remained indulgent and she waited for Draco to continue, noticing his blue eyes darken yet further with anger, but also with that same hurt she had seen moments before. 

As with his father she didn’t want to push him, but they were two very different animals when it came to conversation and their feelings.  Lucius had a good twenty plus years of Malfoy conditioning and breeding on his son, it was a lot easier to manipulate Draco into talking than it was his father.

“Yeah that’s what I thought, my mother had told me I was welcome anytime.”

Hermione watched Draco carefully, she was certain Narcissa had meant what she said, she must miss him, as much as he missed her, but something had obviously not gone quite the way Draco had anticipated.

“And weren’t you?” Hermione asked carefully, deciding against any further injection of humour into her words.

“Oh I was welcome enough, but she also had another _guest.”_ The word was dripping in venomous sarcasm. Hurt, anger and betrayal, clouded Draco’s eyes once more and pained his pale face.

“My unscheduled arrival was a little ill-timed.” Draco shook his shoulders uncaringly, but it was perceptibly not the case.

The sickle dropped, and for a moment Hermione was thrown, had Draco arrived back at Malfoy Manor earlier, he could have found himself in the midst of a second very ill-timed arrival, she felt sick at the thought of him feeling betrayed by both of his parents and not just the one. Guilt once more suffused her body; she did feel she was helping Lucius and in fact felt that they had achieved quite a lot, in a very short space of time. He willingly opened up to her, talked about things he had never done before in the past, but thus far, it seemed to have a strange way of revolving around them becoming sexually involved. What was even more implausible was not only how quickly it had all happened, but just how much she enjoyed that fact. Admittedly they hadn’t talked about the darker or contentious issues, the article in the Daily Prophet, Azkaban or his nightmares and Hermione was sure they would not encounter the same intimacy once they did.

“I know it’s only early days, but are you getting anywhere with my father?”

Draco’s question caught Hermione unawares, her face colouring profusely, luckily her proximity to the fire hid that from Draco, his own face full of hope as he looked down at her.

“As you say Draco, it’s early days, but on the positive side, he is talking to me and he hasn’t hexed me…. Yet.”

Hermione got a much firmer smile from Draco, and the anger and hurt in his eyes seemed to abate yet further.

“At least one of my parents is being sensible, acting their age.” He added the last few words petulantly as he slumped somewhat irritably back into the chair, his eyes whilst less angry and hurt, were still far away.

Hermione swallowed hard, Merlin’s teeth, the thought of Draco catching her and Lucius stark naked on the rug like a couple of teenagers did not bear thinking about, it hardly fitted Draco’s praise that one of his parents was acting their age.  That aside, Hermione couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of sympathy, even empathy for Narcissa Malfoy. She was a very attractive woman, a little frosty for Hermione’s taste, but none the less she was attractive. In her forties like her husband, the little reminder making Hermione’s stomach lurch. Just like Lucius, she was hardly old or past her prime.  Hermione was certain that after two decades of marriage Narcissa Malfoy still had some feelings for her husband, but they were no longer together, why should she or why would she want to spend her life alone? Whilst she might not need a man in every sense of the word, if Lucius’ reactions to her were anything to go by, but she would certainly need companionship or someone at her side.

Hermione wasn’t sure if this was the time to try and justify his mother’s choices or whether she should even stick her nose into something which was obviously not her business, but well Draco had brought it up so………...

“Would you rather your mother be sensible, acting her age and be alone Draco?”

She saw the anger rise quickly in his face, immediately regretting her words, she had overstepped the mark and was going to feel the wrath of Draco Malfoy like she had not experienced since they had been at school together.  But as he went to reply, he plainly thought about what she had just said.

“But she’s my mother.” He said almost pathetically, childishly even.

The small laugh was out before she could contain it, it was such a typical male reaction, and for a moment Draco reminded Hermione of Ronald, it was the sort of thing that he would say.  The consternation on Draco’s face made her laughter a little louder, as did the cerebral comparison to Ronald Weasley.  There were so many things Hermione wanted to say to Draco at this moment, she ended up just shaking her head in disbelief.

“What?” Came the typically petulant Malfoy reply.

Draco was far from stupid, and perhaps in all honesty his response to finding out his mother had a companion or whatever he was, was only to be expected. Fortunately, he wasn’t Ronald Weasley, Draco just needed a little perspective, he would not poo poo what she said without any thought.  She rested her hand on his knee, as was becoming a bit of a habit with both of the Malfoy men.  Draco however, she addressed a little more like the hurt child she saw.

“Yes Draco, she is your mother and you should want her to be happy and not alone.”

Draco looked at the young witch at his feet, she was as always, right of course, he did want his mother to be happy and he hated the thought of her being alone. He had just hoped, perhaps immaturely, that happiness and companionship, would once more come from his father.  That she seemed to have moved on so quickly, whilst his father suffered as he did, hurt the young wizard more than he thought possible.  He wasn’t sure he could tell Hermione that, stupid as it was, he had asked her to help his father, but was in his own way frightened to allow himself to open up to her in such a way. He didn’t want her thinking he was weaker than she already did. He doubted that whilst they had agreed to move on, her actual opinion of him had improved that much since they had been at school together.

“I know if it were my parents, I would be hurt too. Bad enough that they had parted, but I guess I would always have that little piece of me that wanted them to get back together, hoping that would happen someday.”

Draco looked at her, astonishment lighting his eyes, etched on his face.

“I am not a legilimens Draco, it’s just a natural reaction. Of course you would hope that your parents would get back together, but I’ve said this before, better that they are happy apart, than miserable together. You are not a child that they have to remain together for, you are a young man now, you all have your own lives to live and whether you like it or not you all have to move on.”

Draco nodded, accepting her words, more words of Granger wisdom.

“Not sure if it’s because it’s you or what you do, but yes of course everything you say is right.  Having someone say it out loud, well I guess it kinda makes more sense, maybe makes it real. Not saying I am happy about it or him though.”

Hermione bit back the laughter this time as an out and out Malfoy sneer rode across Draco’s mouth. Looking at the young man, so much like his father something occurred to her.

“Would we be having this conversation about your father?” She couldn’t help herself, that little part of Hermione’s brain that thought with logic and clarity, wanted to be honest with Draco, this wasn’t the time, she knew that, but there was no harm in putting out a feeler or two, gauging his reaction.

“If my father had moved someone into the Manor you mean?”

Hermione nodded, unable to trust herself to speak.

She saw a little twinkle in Draco’s eyes, his mood lightening suddenly.

“Well you weren’t here when I left.” He said, his eyes fixed seriously on her, but his voice full of teasing.

Despite the obvious mischief in his remark, a deep flush once more crept up through Hermione, again hidden by the warmth of the fire, but not entirely it would seem.

“I am just teasing you Granger honestly.” He looked a little shamefaced, but grinned none the less.

“This might sound a bit like a double standard, and probably rather sexist to you, but you know what, it wouldn’t be so bad, maybe it would help him in some way.”

Hermione’s flush darkened and her brows rose at Draco’s statement, it was a rather sexist view, but Hermione did understand where he was coming from.  It could possibly have been a good moment to mention what had transpired between herself and Lucius, but that decision wasn’t entirely hers to make, she remained silent on the subject as he continued.

“Right now I think my mother is the stronger of the two, my father needs help, whatever that might entail, I will take it. Sorry Granger, I am sure that sounds terrible and incredibly selfish. My father has us and he’s going to need us.” His tone was serious once more, his eyes tinged with sadness and anxiety.

“In answer to your original question, yes, I would rather see my mother happy and not alone. But the trouble is, how is my father going to feel, how is he going to react? Especially when she tells him she wants a divorce too.”

Neither Draco nor Hermione had heard the door to the sitting room open, a simple “Alohomora” countering Draco’s earlier charm. Lucius filled the doorway, his presence filling the room, clearly he had heard the last part of the conversation between his son and Hermione. His face was implacable, but his narrowed eyes glistened like molten silver, and Hermione didn’t know about Draco, but she could feel the rage radiating from his body even at this distance.


	48. Irreparable Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you didn't mind too much my little deception at the start of the last chapter, leading you down the garden path was very naughty of me, but I don't like to be to predictable. So Lucius and Hermione were not caught in flagrante delicto by the early return of Draco, Lucius was however none too pleased...now we find out why...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See I told you normal service would be resumed. My as ever grateful thanks for continued support with this story, your follows kudos and comments. My sincere apologies as always for those annoying little errors in whatever guise they may take.

 

Lucius Malfoy wasn’t sure how he felt, or to be more accurate, Lucius Malfoy wasn’t sure how he _should_ feel. These were not emotions he was used to dealing with, or experiencing come to that. On the outside his body felt it were bound by some strange almost peaceful detachment, whilst on the inside it felt as it were apparating, being torn in opposing directions, his body raging and fighting itself, it was as if he was two different people.  His penetrating grey eyes took in the sight before him; the young woman he had left, but a short time ago, the young woman he had just been as close as it was to be with another human being, was seated exactly where he had left her, only now she was at the feet of his son, her hand resting almost affectionately on his knee, the simple little gesture so familiar to him. Two sets of similarly conflicting emotions also ripped through his head.  One, an odd sense of calm, joy almost, that they should be talking so easily, and were clearly quite comfortable and at ease with each other. The other a hot sense of bitter, angry, jealously, for exactly the same reasons.

He hadn’t expected his son to return so soon, he had said he would be gone a few days, part of him hated the fact that Draco was back, the other part of him, hated himself for thinking such a thing. He might not always have showed it outwardly, but he adored his son and would do anything for him, valuing the fact that he chose to remain here at the Manor, despite everything. Whatever Lucius might think or feel about his wife, he would never stop his son from seeing his mother.

He wasn’t sure if he was surprised that Narcissa wanted a divorce, he was however shocked that she would discuss it, or even mention it to their son, before consulting him. He hadn’t heard the first part of the conversation between, Hermione and Draco, but for Narcissa to legally want to end their marriage must mean there was something, or someone involved, there would be no other reason she would sully the Black or Malfoy names with a divorce otherwise.

Lucius also found himself wondering why Draco would be talking to Hermione about this, or why he would be worried about his feelings or his reactions.  Their friendship was obviously much deeper than Lucius had imagined or that Draco had intimated. Hermione had admitted to him that they had agreed to move on, but he hadn’t for one minute thought they would have become as close as the scene before him depicted. His mind and his body drifted back an hour or so ago, would he have imagined that their own, what was it? Friendship, relationship, whatever, would have become what it was, so quickly or that it would ever even have become anything at all.

His mind like his insides was in turmoil, trying to process what felt like everything that had happened in the last few weeks, maybe months, all at once. Each section of his brain fighting the other to earn supremacy, each small piece of grey matter feeling it was right. Lucius really didn’t know how he felt, he just wanted everything rushing around in his head to go away, to leave him in peace.  Everything together, all of his feelings, his anger, his hurt, his jealously, suddenly came crashing around him, lighting a fuse which burned very quickly and with a ferocity he couldn’t control.

“So your mother wants a divorce” He sneered, his cold grey eyes narrowing and fixing on his son.

Hermione didn’t feel she should be part of this, this conversation, but by the look on Lucius face she wasn’t entirely sure that there was to be much conversation involved. Her brown eyes flitted to the younger Malfoy, a look of abject terror etched on his pale face, beneath the hand which still rested on his leg, she could feel the tension emanating from his slim body.

Draco glanced down at Hermione, the look in his eyes pleading with her to stay, the look on his face begging her not to intervene. His eyes moved from her, to his father, rising slowly from the chair, out of respect, Hermione felt, rather than a need to meet him on the same level.

The young blonde nodded, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke; “Yes.”

Hermione wasn’t sure she had ever seen anyone so terrified of another human being, especially one to whom they were related.

Lucius’ face went paler than usual, his eyes still slits of fury, as he rounded on his son.

“And she chose to speak to **you** about this and not me.” It was a statement not a question, filled with accusatory venom.

Draco remained silent, motionless as he stood before his father, looking quite small against Lucius powerful, menacing presence.

The hateful scorn seeped deeper into his clipped, icy tones. “I thought her more worthy of using _her_ son as a messenger. I credited her with more courage than that.”

Hermione really felt she should leave, this was a conversation to be had between father and son, but fear and curiosity kept her rooted to the spot. There was no fear for herself, it was for the two men standing above her. If tempers became frayed to the very worst, who knew where this altercation would lead. The curiosity spoke for itself.  Silently and intently watching both men, she noticed a defensive shift in Draco’s stance. Whist undoubtedly fearing his father’s temper, he visibly would not allow him to speak in derogatory terms of his mother. Draco had told Hermione that neither of his parents would speak of the circumstances surrounding Narcissa’s departure from the Manor, from his choice of words, it appeared their son was still very much in the dark, as to those reasons. 

“Courage has nothing to do with it, mother wanted, wants to talk to you but……” Draco faltered.

Hermione wasn’t sure if it was the territory he was venturing into or the livid look on Lucius’ face, either way the young witch felt for him.  She noticed Lucius incline his head slightly, waiting, almost daring his son to continue with this line of dialog.

“But she wasn’t sure you would be receptive.”

Hmm clever choice of words thought Hermione, her brown gaze once more switching to the elder Malfoy.

Many things tried to fight their way through his haze of fury, amongst them a small sense of reality. The odd thing was, he really wasn’t that angry that Narcissa was suggesting they divorce; they had not spoken to each other since Narcissa had left, on his part he wanted no reconciliation. He did however find an unexpected hurt creep into his body, that after all her protestations of how much she loved him, she would suggest dissolving their marriage so swiftly.  All of that aside and through the red mist of anger, it was of course actually the sensible thing to do, and there was the rub. His anger was borne of the fact that she had been the one asking, the one making that decision, Draco being the messenger simple added to that fury and left him squarely in the firing line. That she would put their son in that position, fuelled his rage, a rage that he could only take out on the person in the room, Draco.

“Receptive” Lucius spat the word at his son.

Hermione saw a dangerous anger flair in Draco, she had seen it many times when they had been at school together, but then it was usually directed at her, or Harry or more often than not, Ronald. The consequences of that anger then, would in no way compare to the wrath of Lucius Malfoy, even if he was Draco’s father. Hermione needed to defuse the situation, but trepidation raced through her veins. Despite the intimacy she had shared with Lucius, he now seemed oblivious to her presence, fixated only on his son, to interfere between father and son was not advisable. To remind him of her presence might not be the best course of action to take, and from the look on Draco’s face a few moments before, intervention would not necessarily be a good idea either. 

“What did you expect father? That she would pine away for you, that she would simply remain alone and unhappy forever. She doesn’t deserve that.”

A sharp breath caught in Hermione’s chest at Draco using her reasoning on his father, whilst the younger Malfoy might have thought about what she had said, to his father the words were antagonistic, accusatory, only serving as a reminder to what he had done, the pain he had caused. Hermione saw the hurt in Lucius stormy grey eyes, Draco had certainly hit a nerve, a nerve that saw his rage escalate. His eyes were slits of thunderous grey, his nostrils flared and his lips thinned and whitened.  But what terrified Hermione more than anything were the hands at his sides, clenching and unclenching as he tried to contain his anger.  She had always been so certain that Lucius would never hurt her, in the same vein was she was even more certain he would never harm Draco, but fury seemed to be engulfing him a cloud in which his actions could become uncontrollable. She was reminded of his words to her in the hotel, of how he was scared for her, for fear of what he might do.  Hermione toyed with the idea of casting a charm over Lucius, but the repercussions of that by far outweighed the good it might do.

“You dare to tell _me_ what your mother deserves boy.” His tone still not questioning, simply stating.

Hermione hoped that Draco would back down, but she knew that look on his face, as pale and angry as his father’s all too well.  Whilst his might not end with wands being drawn and hexes being cast, it was certainly not going to end well.  Despite Lucius’ power, it was him she feared for, she had been treading on egg shells with him, softly cajoling and gentling encouraging. The malice and anger in the words he was exchanging with his son were going to set him right back. Whether she liked it or not Hermione had to intervene, she had to stop this before it went too far, and words were said that could not be taken back. 

She knew Draco was hurt, she knew he was angry, until this moment she also knew that anger and hurt was directed at his mother. The balance had shifted to Lucius, quite simply because he was Draco’s father and in the boyish, in the childish recesses of his mind he expected his father to be able to fix it, to actually wave his wand and make it all better, make it all how Draco wanted it to be.  No matter how good or _bad_ , a dark wizard Lucius Malfoy might be, he was not going to be able to change this situation, but that hurt and anger blinded his son’s sense of reality. In his hurt and in his anger Draco was going to make things a lot worse, with a few ill-chosen and anger fuelled words he was going to put things well and truly back to square one

“Yes I do.”

Hermione heard Draco’s now firm but rather shrill tones fill the silent room, and her heart sank like a stone. It didn’t have the menace of his father’s aristocratic tones, but the threat was there none the less.

Hermione saw Lucius’ head move, a small almost imperceptible inclination.

“It’s your fault, you are the reason…...” The young blonde stopped abruptly, looking into his father’s face, fury was replaced by a deep pain, he didn’t think he could have hurt him more if he’d struck him or cast a spell upon him.

Hermione knew Draco’s words were issued with no premise of fact, and that deep down he didn’t mean what he said, but in the heat of the moment he needed to blame someone for his own pain, for his own anger and that someone was his father. Her hands flew to her face as she too saw the utter hurt which washed across the dark wizard’s already ashen face. He made no sound, his pale blue grey eyes finally moving from his son to her, in their limpid depths Hermione saw an agony she never thought possible; a hopeless despair that reached his very soul. Draco’s words clearly compounding what Lucius already thought. The young witch felt hot salty tears sting her eyes, she wanted to reach out for Lucius but her limbs would not move, she wanted to speak, but emotion constricted her throat.

She felt Draco’s eyes upon her, and momentarily shifted her gaze from father to son. In his eyes she saw horror, she saw instant regret, but the words had been said, even with the aid of some very powerful magic, they could not be unsaid. The damage had been done, if it was reparable, remained to be seen, how much damage had been done was another question entirely. Hermione had already questioned her own abilities to help Lucius, that was even more in doubt now. 

Her tearful honey brown eyes returned once more to Lucius, it took every bit of willpower not to allow those tears to flow. Lucius did not need her pity, just what he did need now, she really wasn’t sure. She saw a look that was almost an _I told you so,_ his own anguished gaze once more fixating on his contrite offspring.  Lucius squared his broad shoulders, his face once more set in that haughty mask of implacability.

“Yes I know Draco, I more than aware of my shortcomings as a husband, as a father and as a man.”

The threatening tears finally spilled on Hermione’s burning cheeks as Lucius Malfoy turned and silently left the room. 


	49. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think maybe this chapter should come with some sort of warning......however all I will say is prepare yourselves for the fallout!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as ever, grateful thanks and grovelling apologies. I hope you continue to enjoy this

 

As the door clicked slowly and quietly behind the retreating wizard, Hermione brushed her hand quickly across her face, wiping away the tears which now cascaded freely onto her cheeks. The hurt for Lucius and her need to go to him, at this very moment, easily overwhelmed by her anger at Draco and her need to punch him in the face, just as she had done many years ago.

The young blonde sank back into the chair, his head buried in his hands, Hermione could see he needed no further berating from her, he was more than aware of what his heated words had done. His remorseful blue eyes came up to meet her furious brown.

“I am sorry Granger, I just …. I was so angry …...it just, I couldn’t help myself, I’m really sorry.”

Hermione was well aware that shouting at Draco, being angry at him would not help the situation, heartless as it might seem, his hurt and anguish were a minor insignificance, easily dealt with. If this had been a normal difference of opinion, or argument between father and son, the young witch wouldn’t have given any of it a second thought. Like all offspring and their parents, they would blow off steam, regret their words to each other, maybe sulk for a few hours, or if you were Ronald and Arthur Weasley maybe a few days, but it would all be mended soon enough, the words said in the heat of the moment would be forgotten and life would go on.  She didn’t even want to begin to think about the harm this difference of opinion, these heated words had caused.  

“Oh Draco.” Was all Hermione could muster, the frustration and dejection in her tone more than evident. “I wish you arrogant Malfoy men would just think for one single bloody minute before you spoke.”

Draco shook the head that rested in his hands, his blonde hair a tangled mess between his long taught fingers.

“I know, I know, what can I say?”

Hermione also shook her head, raising a somewhat sarcastic eyebrow, she looked miserably at the young wizard. “I think you have said quite enough already.”

A bright flush crept across Draco’s ashen face, at her words: “I’ll go and find my father, and apologise. I didn’t mean what I said Granger, it’s just, I was angry, I was hurt.” His voice trailed off slightly. “It just came out.”

Hermione looked wearily at him: “I know you didn’t mean it Draco, and quite possibly so does your father, deep down, but you of all people know how he is at the moment, how careful you, how careful **we** have to be with what we say to him.” She finally rose from the floor, walking to the French windows which overlooked the gardens.

Fresh spring rain trickled down the long glass panes, reflecting Hermione’s mood and the gloominess of the current state of affairs.

“I would leave your father be for now; I don’t think talking to him right now is a good idea. He….”

“Granger don’t leave him alone _please_. One of us needs to talk to him, or at least be with him.”

For the first time Hermione saw genuine fear reflected in Draco’s pleading blue eyes, wide and bright against his pale skin.

“I am such an idiot Granger, I…...” Draco too stood up, and frantically began pacing the room.

“The last time I saw him like this was the day the article in the Daily Prophet was published.”

He continued to pace, running his hands agitatedly through his already untidy mop of hair.  “That week was awful; I can’t begin to tell you, you can’t imagine. I had never seen him like that before, it really scared me, I didn’t know what to do. You know I couldn’t leave the manor, I couldn’t leave him alone, not the way he was. Granger please.”

Hermione wasn’t afraid to go to Lucius, but professionally, she honestly didn’t feel it was the right thing to do. How she felt personally was another feeling entirely. But, Lucius needed to calm down, before anyone attempted to speak to him. She remained at the window, unconvinced by Draco’s words and fighting her own emotions and feelings. The professional in her felt talking to the dark wizard now, would only provoke the situation yet further. Out of her peripheral vision she saw the young blonde move towards the door.

“Fine then I’ll go.” Draco’s almost childlike petulance shone through once more, just as it always did when he didn’t get his own way, whatever situation he was in.

“My father might be angry with me, and I might make him angrier, rather that than leave him alone, and find him drunk, incoherent or maybe worse, I ……”

Hermione closed her eyes in surrender, she raised her hand, stopping Draco from continuing, the picture he was painting, alarming her all the more: “Okay Okay, calm down Draco, against my better judgement I’ll go and find him. Do you have any idea where he might be?”

She saw visible relief seep into the younger Malfoy, his body relaxing and the anxiety abating from his face. In all honesty a small part of her was convinced he was right, in fact a good part of her told her precisely that. Lucius did need time to calm down, but it wasn’t good for him to be alone, but by the same token she did not want to add fuel to the fire. She might have slept with Lucius Malfoy, enjoyed various acts of intimacy with him, but she really didn’t know him at all, even professionally she felt very much out of her depth. But as always, Hermione Granger would not be defeated, this time there was much more at stake than just her pride.

“Thank you Granger.” He thought for a moment or two. “The library or maybe his study, there are drinks cabinets in both rooms.” He looked miserably at Hermione, his bright blue eyes, once more clouded by remorse and sadness.

Despite her barely contained anger, Hermione actually felt very sorry for Draco, these last few months, maybe even longer, must have been really rough on him too, his world had once again been turned upside down. His mother leaving without explanation, his father going through his own personal hell, stories being written about them in the press and so it went on. Hermione had always thought of Draco Malfoy as, amongst other things, immature, but she gave him full credit for trying to deal with all of this by himself, it was inevitable that at some point, he too would reach a breaking point.  She reached out and gently touched his arm, giving him a weak but reassuring smile.

“It’ll be alright Draco, better perhaps that your father vented his anger on one of us than someone else, that damage we might not have been able to repair.” In her heart of hearts Hermione wasn’t sure she could repair the damage that she was certain Draco has caused, but she tried not to let that show.

“But I shouldn’t have said the things I did, I didn’t mean to…...the look on his face Granger, I…….” Draco continued to shake his blonde head in torment.

“I know.” She too could still recall the pain in Lucius’ pale grey eyes, the recoil in his face as if he had been struck.

She really wanted to tell Draco that everything was going to be fine, but she really wasn’t sure she could, not with any honest conviction.  A very weak smile and a gentle, hopefully reassuring touch was all she could manage, before she left a still visibly distraught Draco pacing in his mother’s sitting room.

 

Lucius viewed the bottom of his empty glass with absolute despair. Not for the first time, wondering just how many glasses it would take for that feeling to go away for ever. He had lost count, over the last year or so, he had drunk and drunk and drunk until utter numbness has immersed his tired despondent body. Each time he had fallen into his bed, hoping that perhaps tonight would be the night and that tomorrow would not come. He would be free at last, mind, body and soul.

He’d been persecuted enough by silent accusatory stares, whispers behind his back and hateful looks of condemnation, all of which had become so much worse since Rita Skeeter’s poison pen had vilified him in print for all the wizarding world to see. He couldn’t honestly say he wanted his life back as it was, but he did want his life back. He’d had all of those things before, the stares, the looks, the whispers, except then people feared him, the Malfoy name stood for something, it got him all of the things he held dear, or so he had been foolish enough to think at the time. Power, money, status, respect, although maybe not so much of the latter. Lucius had learnt the hard way, that respect had to be earned, it did not automatically come with the power or the money, and certainly could not be achieved through the fear.

These days, however they might have been achieved, the money aside, he had very little of the other things either. Whatever Kingsley Shacklebolt had intimated at, Lucius Malfoy would never weald the influence he once had at the Ministry of Magic, after the things he had done, no one would ever respect him. That lack of respect it appeared, also stretched to his own son, although in truth Lucius doubted whether Draco had ever had that much respect for him, what he did have, it had never been true respect, again it was fear. More despair seeped into his veins.

What would another whisky matter or another, no one cared, and who could blame them, not even Draco it would seem. It really didn’t matter what Lucius Malfoy did or said anymore, then again had it ever? Had he really been that deluded, that self-obsessed to actually think it did? His laughter was hollow and self-deprecating as he downed yet another glass.  In the short expanse of time since he had left his son and Hermione, he had already downed far too many Firewhiskies, the first two going down so fast, he hardly had time to register the burning sensation that clawed at his throat. The third was infinitely less painful, he had even remembered to drop some ice into the heavy glass, by the fourth, the heat barely registered, the dark amber liquid just leaving a familiar numbness that he hoped would eventually encompass his entire body. Perhaps today would be the day he had longed for, finally taking away everything that shackled him to the past, to his sins, to the loathsome man he was. It had to be the day, for today was the day when all of the things he had long thought about himself, had been compounded, said to his face by the son he adored.

Yes, it was his fault, everything was his fault. 

Of course his son was right. As days, weeks and eventually months had passed following Narcissa’s departure Lucius Malfoy had slowly come to realise that he was solely responsible for not only his wife’s departure but everything that lead up to that moment.

Whilst based on lies and brimming with untruths, Rita Skeeter’s article had been right about one thing, he had indeed driven his wife away.  He hadn’t beaten her, or laid a hand on her in any way, he had never raised his voice or his wand to the woman with whom he had shared most of his adult life, the woman who had borne him his beautiful son. The, what some might consider, mental cruelty, he had subjected her to, had been punishment enough, perhaps in some ways more hurtful than if he had physically abused her.

He had never looked at another woman, let alone slept with one, not in all the years they had been together, not until now that was, and whilst they were not together, in the eyes of wizarding law they were still very much married. For all of the hurt and pain he had seen etched on Narcissa’s face that cold January morning when she had left, she seemed to have forgotten him easily, moving on very quickly.  Just who did he hate for that, himself or Narcissa? He silently chastised himself for his double standards, he had told her to leave, he could hardly condemn her for not wanting to be alone, he could hardly blame her now for wanting to be rid of him once and for all. How could he, he had rid himself of her, and when Hermione had walked back into his life, Lucius had found himself not wanting to be alone.

Hermione; the dark space in Lucius’ mind regressed still further into an even blacker place as he thought of the young witch. Ironically she had been his ray of light, she’d brought a brightness into his life that he’d never know before and now that window had closed too.  Every time they were together, it appeared something was there to remind him of his sins of the past, he would never be free.

Just as the dark mark had once loomed in the sky, filling onlookers with a sense of dread and terror, Lucius once more found a similar sensation invading his senses. But as always, there was no skeletal skull and serpent hovering about him, no impending arrival of the Dark Lord, just an imminent sense of his own fear and anxiety which swirled around inside of his head and gradually seeped into his bones, paralysing both his mind and his body. With the alcohol, sometimes it would go as quickly as it had come, but another time it would linger for days, clinging to Lucius, dragging him further and further down into a mire of uncontrollable depression, worse than any Dementor, it would suck any joy from him, each time it would take the dark wizard longer to claw his way back from the thick fog like feeling that enshrouded him. For a split second there would be peace, only for the all-consuming darkness to return, then the peace would come again, for a moment longer this time, and so the cycle would continue, until eventually Lucius felt utter peace again……...until the next time.

Now it came with a vengeance and a bleakness that terrified him. Today Hermione wasn’t his ray of light, she had been made part of the darkness.   She had witnessed first-hand Draco’s outburst, seen and heard the hatred he harboured for his father. Draco was her friend, he could see that now, he had been a fool to have thought anything else. Whatever intimacy she had shared with the dark wizard, friendship and loyalty lasted a lot longer than a sexual encounter of any kind.  If there was one thing Lucius knew about Hermione Granger, as a Gryffindor and especially _this_ particular Gryffindor, she was fiercely loyal. That loyalty would remain with her friend, no matter how recent a friend he may be, not with a man she’d had sex with, because that was all it was. There was no point deluding himself with any fanciful ideas. He had deluded himself all too often in the past, the alcohol helped him escape from those delusions and fanciful ideas, freeing his mind from everything, numbing his body and simply allowing him to forget……. until the next time. 

The darkness and the Firewhiskey encompassed Lucius and his mind. He knew no one could have thought less of him, than he did of himself, if they did, certainly no one had said so out loud or to his face. Rita Skeeter had put her version of the truth in print, but to hear such words from his own son broke him.   Those three simple venomous words, said with such hatred reverberated around in Lucius head, over and over.

It’s your fault. It’s your fault. It’s your fault.

Draco had told Hermione, where two rooms were located in the Manor, save her own bedroom and of course the Master Bedroom, she had no clue where either the Library or Lucius study were and didn’t want to waste valuable time opening one door after another, in a futile search. Reluctantly she summoned Miffy, who quickly appeared with a loud crack.

“What can Miffy do for Miss Hermione?” The small creature asked, the tiniest hint of a smile splitting her face and lighting her big eyes.

“I need to find the Master.” Hermione explained as matter-of-factly as she could without alarming the house elf, watching as Miffy’s eyes widened yet further.

Much as it went against Hermione’s principles, she had to be firm and assertive with the small creature.

“Master Draco says he is either in the library or in his study and I don’t know where either room is, could you show me please?”

Miffy tugged painfully on her large ears, Hermione’s unusual request clearly unsettling her. But as a house elf in the service of the Malfoy’s it was not her place to question and she duly indicated both rooms, with a long gnarled finger. Disapparating before Hermione had the chance to ask for anything further. 

Hermione looked from one door to the other, wondering which room Lucius would have taken refuge in, if either.  Something told the young witch, his study would be favourite and she moved towards the heavy wooden door, which was tightly closed. Reaching for the solid metal handle, she hoped that Lucius, if he was in here, had not warded the room, doubting she would be able to circumvent such powerful dark magic as his.  Fortunately, the knob turned with relative ease, and the door swung quietly open. Hermione swallowed hard and taking a deep steadying breath popped her head into the room.

It was much darker than the sitting room, in terms of both natural light and decoration. A very masculine room, the furniture was all heavy, solid wood, the décor itself shades of deep red and charcoal, even the huge hearth which all but dominated the space was a dark stone or marble. The two chairs which flanked it were such a deep shade of red they were almost black. Seated in one of those chairs was Lucius, he stared absently into the unlit grate, a tumbler clasped between his fingers, a hefty tot of Firewhisky, or possibly brandy, filled it well over halfway.

Hermione moved quietly but assuredly into the dim room, hopefully exuding more confidence than she actually felt, her legs and hands shaking as she moved.  She closed the door softly behind her, there was no point in warding it, if Lucius wanted to leave, she doubted there was any magic she was capable of conjuring that would prevent that. Draco was the only other person in the house and she felt sure he would be keeping well out of the way.

If Hermione had been uncertain as to where she would start her conversation previously, now she was even more at a loss, although she very much doubted Lucius was in the mood for conversation, and if he was, well it was hardly going to be polite, restrained chit chat. From the look on his face and the way his fingers tightly clasped the heavy crystal, Lucius Malfoy had only one intention, talking had nothing to do with it, getting very drunk, quite possibly to the point of oblivion, had everything to do with it.

As she approached him, Hermione felt a distinct sense of déjà vu, feeling exactly as she had done that morning in the hotel. The scent of alcohol hung in the air, drifting unpleasantly to her nostrils at such an early hour. Lucius staring fixedly ahead and Hermione really not having the faintest idea where to begin.  She tried to pretend this wasn’t Lucius Malfoy, that she was about to sit down with a less than receptive patient, which really was very much what he was, although he had no idea of that.  But his presence was quite simply too overpowering to allow that, even on her last visit here, when he had been drunk and dirty, in the midst of a nightmare, there was no getting away from who this man was.  She slipped into the chair opposite him, Lucius continued to stare blindly into the cold lifeless grate, raising his glass to his lips and taking what she assumed was not his first mouthful, or quite possibly his first glass of the amber liquid, he ignored her presence completely.   

A small shiver ran along her spine, that morning in the hotel, whilst his face had revealed very little, Lucius’ expressive eyes had been defiant and angry. She could see him now, standing there in the long window, even wounded and angry, he still radiated his supreme arrogance, his back so straight, his signature mane of blonde hair, so distinctive, so silky. His infamous cane clasped menacingly between his fingers, every inch the Lucius Malfoy she knew so well of old. A haughty, superior cloak of disdain clinging to his broad shoulders.  Today, Hermione saw just the shell of that man, his eyes still reflecting both anger and pain, but she also saw something a lot more frightening in the depths of his blue grey eyes, now she saw a broken spirit, a broken man.


	50. Memories, Good And Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will Hermione be able to help Lucius, reach him........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Housekeeping as always, thanks for Kudos and comments, apologies for faux pas. Glad you are still enjoying it and all those comments inspire me to carry on.

 

As she sat silent in the chair opposite Lucius, Hermione tried to keep her own emotions in check. However hard this was going to be, she needed to approach it, him, with objectivity. She couldn’t totally disregard the personal relationship, if she could call it that, that she had with him, if it wasn’t for it, she very much doubted she would be sitting here now. It was that thought, the thought of just how bad this could be if she wasn’t here, that spurred her on. Hermione felt another shiver course through her body, she wasn’t sure if it was the chill in the room or anxiety which caused it. 

Lucius cold grey eyes continued to look vacantly into the hearth, anger and pain etched on his chiselled profile.  Hermione slipped her wand from her pocket, waved it as inconspicuously as possible and whispered a barely audible, incendio.  The grate burst into life, the sudden bright movement, causing Lucius to slowly look up. The sorrow in his face and despair reflected in his eyes, caused the breath to catch in her throat.  Even when they had talked briefly of Azkaban, she hadn’t seen such profound hurt in their depths, even when he had seen the article in the Daily Prophet, she hadn’t seen such utter desolation clouding his handsome features. This was about so much more than Draco’s unchecked words, they were just the catalyst, coming so hot on the heels of the nightmare he had endured the previous night, they had obviously stirred up a whole host of emotions that the dark wizard was clearly struggling to deal with.  As Lucius raised the heavy glass tumbler to his lips once more, Hermione noticed the look on his face change to one of bitterness, his eyes narrowing once more with latent anger.

“You see what regard my son has for me, Hermione?”

Hermione remained silent, watching Lucius swirl the amber liquid around in the fast emptying glass. His quiet brooding, so much more unsettling than any ferocious display of temper.

“Even the, what was it they used to call you at school, smartest witch of your age, even you cannot refute his words.”

His words were said with contempt, almost spat at the young witch. But she knew the anger was not directed at her, she was simply the person in the room, just as Lucius had been with Draco. Lucius’ outward anger was with his son, but most of the anger that bubbled away inside Lucius Malfoy was with himself, that was obvious even to a novice like Hermione. She took the plunge.

“Perhaps not all of them Lucius no, because in a situation like this I don’t think anyone is totally irreproachable. But as someone looking on, I would, to use your word refute a good many of them.”

She had become very good at reading the former Death Eater, his micro mannerisms, and even in the rather dim room, she didn’t miss one. The tiny crease that formed on his brow, the infinitesimal movement of a dark blonde brow, the slight flaring in his nostrils and his desperate attempt to constrain a sneer. He said nothing, as the glass once more met his lips, this time it was almost drained.

Despite Lucius’ hurt, Hermione could feel defiance gradually simmering in her blood, once upon a time Hermione’s blood would have boiled at Lucius Malfoy, now it boiled for him, in more ways than one her body reminded her somewhat inappropriately.

“Draco was angry Lucius.” She chose her words carefully, not wanting to antagonise him any further.

“He was angry before you came into the room, your words…. your reaction. He simply took it out on you.” A flicker of cynicism flickered across Lucius’ pale face.

“I told you earlier, my mother had an expression, you always hurt the ones you love.”

Hermione saw a very strange trace of emotion in the dark wizard’s face, but was unable to attribute it to anything specific, it vanished quickly and turned into the sneer he had been suppressing. With the out and out derisory sneer went the last of the Firewhiskey, the glass now completely empty. Lucius avoided looking at Hermione, instead he chose to stare at the heavy crystal tumbler held between his fingers. 

Even though Hermione was certain there was a lot more to this than _just_ Draco’s outburst, she stuck to the facts, what she knew and what she had witnessed. “Draco lashed out at you because you were there, had you not have come in, he probably would have continued sounding off at me. Unlike you however, I had nothing to do with the situation he was angry at, so he couldn’t take it out on me in any way.”

Lucius rose suddenly from his chair, all be a tad unsteadily, clearly this wasn’t the first Firewhiskey he had consumed. Hermione, thought she had said too much, overstepped the mark in presuming to tell him about his son, assuming that he was about to leave the room. That might have been more preferable to the fact that he simply strode remarkably purposefully across the room and replenished his empty glass with another heavy tot of alcohol.  Dare she overstep this line? 

“Please Lucius, don’t…” She saw his eyes glisten, his anger evident once more, this time directed at her, yes she was definitely overstepping a line here, but she refused to back down. She had few weapons at her disposal so once again she went with the personal approach, hoping it would have the effect it usually did.

“I much prefer the scent of your spicy cologne, to the bitter scent of alcohol.”  She met his gaze head on, seeing the glimmer of surprise that lit his eyes, softening the hard lines in his face.

Lucius returned to his chair with the refreshed glass of Firewhiskey, but instead of nursing it as he had done previously, he placed it on the table next to his chair. He crossed his long legs, his arms resting on those of the chair, his fingers gripping the ends, his gaze once more fell upon the young witch. It was harsh and cold, pinning her to her own seat.

Lucius had displayed no sign of surprise when Hermione had entered his study, in fact save the occasional rush of emotion crossing his face at her words, Lucius displayed little sign of anything at all.  Hermione still found this very disconcerting, with a man like this, his controlled detachment and stony silence were more unnerving and decidedly more worrying than an outright display of uncontrolled temper.  Temper she could handle, even his, but sitting here like this was like watching a pot slowly simmering, gradually coming to the boil. She continued to look into those cold grey eyes, earlier they had been surprised and full of warmth and passion, rightly or wrongly Hermione decided to play on that, use it to her advantage, it might help defuse the situation, if not immediately.  Her own gaze was as unwavering as the dark wizard’s as she spoke.

“You were angry, the morning the article was published in the Daily Prophet.” It was a statement, not a question and Hermione noticed a tiny flicker of interest drift across Lucius’ face, it lightened the disdainful sneer which still lingered about his sensual mouth.

“You told me to leave because you were frightened that you would take that anger out on me.” Again it was a summation, a statement of fact, not a question.

Lucius couldn’t repel her words; she spoke the truth. The article had nothing to do with her, but he was so angry that morning, he still was, it would have been easy to have projected that anger onto Hermione for no good reason, other than the fact she was there.  Hermione Granger might once have been described as the smartest witch of her age, something he had just thrown at her rather derisively. It would appear she still was, but this had nothing to do with witchcraft, a beautiful intelligent young woman, wise beyond her years.  His despairing, angry mind slowly began to comprehend the fact that she had come to him, she was here talking to him, sitting with him, worrying about him and not with his son.

“I will not lie to you Lucius, I promised I wouldn’t. I am sure that Draco does blame you for many things.” She saw a furrow cross his brow and his eyes darken once more.

“What _child_ doesn’t blame their parents for just about everything, especially the stuff they don’t like or they don’t understand. I know I did.” A sad smile lifted her mouth and she saw Lucius’ eyes soften.

“And I am sure that even your parents were not immune to the tantrums of a strong willed young Lucius.”

Hermione saw his dark blonde brow rise once more, this time more in cynicism than anything else, she was certain of that, but it was a start, in some small way she had made a connection, her words reaching beyond his anger, past his hurt and touching what she could only describe as his desolation.

“Some things of course are more serious and take a lot more comprehension. I might not know Draco that well, but having spent a good few years at school with him, what I do know is, patience and understanding are not exactly his forte, but by saying that I think they have improved considerably since our days at Hogwarts.”

Lucius reached once more for the glass he had set aside on the table next to him, the large mouthful he was about to consume, reduced to a small sip, as he caught sight of Hermione’s look of disapproval, her small nose wrinkling slightly at his action.

“Something else I do know about your son, which has never changed, Draco gets angry when he doesn’t understand things, he is easily frustrated and that anger increases with the frustration, especially if something is outside of his control. I don’t know his father that well either, but that seems to be an inherent trait.”

A small derisive laugh escaped from Lucius: “Do not sell yourself short Hermione, it would appear you know me and my son all too well.” His voice was terse and clipped, it bore little warmth and momentarily stalled Hermione.

She was however finding that getting to know one Malfoy, was getting to know the other, mentally that was. The leveller she had found with Lucius, might be personal, and intimate, but in these circumstances and dealing with such an unpredictable man, she would take every bit of help she could get.  During her psychology training, she had been taught, developing a personal relationship or bond with a patient can, in certain cases, be a distinct advantage. She wasn’t entirely sure this was what the Professor had meant. Unperturbed she pressed on, dangerously …….

“But it seems to me, as an outsider that you two do not know each other very well at all.”

Hermione didn’t miss Lucius change of stance, nor did she miss the thumb which scraped at the soft flesh on the back of his other hand, it was something she hadn’t noticed before, her eyes drawn to the small painful movement.

“Your son is the same age as me Lucius, you treat me as an adult, as a woman, but you still see Draco as a little boy.” Hermione gaze drifted from Lucius’ angered face to the twitching digit which was leaving a welt on his soft flesh.

“I do not need……” Lucius stopped short, his nail drawing blood against his skin.

About to admonish Hermione for her unsolicited opinion, he found he couldn’t, because she was, as always, right with every observation. He did see her as a beautiful grown up woman, which of course she was, albeit a young woman but very much grown up, confident and poised, seeming so much more mature than his son, so much more capable and a lot more understanding.

Hermione finished the sentence for Lucius.

“I know you do not need me, especially me, to tell you about your son and I would not begin to presume to do so. For fear of repeating myself Lucius, let’s just say, I see two people, I have gotten to know a little better over the last few weeks, who whilst seeming quite happy to talk to me, do not actually talk to each other. You should treat Draco as you do me Lucius.”

Hermione realised as soon as she said it that she could have phrased her words better, however the small genuine, but wry smile that lifted Lucius lips was perhaps worth the poor phraseology, she had reached beyond everything, she had reached him.

Through everything Lucius Malfoy had to smile, not only at the connotations in Hermione’s words but the fact that without even trying she could reach that place in him, that place from long, long ago, where he was happy and relatively carefree, where laughter came easily, well as easily as it did to Lucius Malfoy.  It sounded very old and very clichéd to say she made him feel carefree and young again, but she did, younger than perhaps he had ever felt, even when he was in his late teens, early twenties.

Even in the darker conversations they’d had thus far, he found himself talking easily to her, without reservation and with complete honesty, he held nothing back and had found himself not wanting to, not even now when talking about his son. She was still that little ray of light, she quelled his anger like a soothing balm. With reason and logic and with that gentle understanding that came so naturally to her, she pushed away his despair. Even when she came to him in the dead of night as he was tortured by the darkness of the past, she transformed those heinous nightmares into peaceful sleep and into a heated uninhibited passion that he had never enjoyed, not even as a young man.  This young woman of all people, brought a brightness into his life that he never imagined having again, that he wondered if he’d ever really had.

Honestly, Lucius Malfoy had agreed to talk to Hermione Granger quite simply for his own gains, because of what it would mean for him and for Draco, in terms of getting back in the Ministry’s good graces.  But he was slowly beginning to realise, he had also agreed to do so, so he would legitimately be able to spend more time with her, without any questions being asked or eyebrows being raised.  He also realised that even without the intimacy that they had shared both before, and over the last few hours, simply talking to Hermione Granger made him feel better, another cliché perhaps.

Like his son Lucius was also wary of things he did not understand, and he too found things outside of that understanding, very frustrating.  In some strange paradox, he didn’t comprehend everything that was happening to him when it came to Hermione, but his lack of understanding with her was anything but frustrating. A few moments ago Lucius had wanted to drown himself in alcohol, he might well be drowning in a sea of things that he didn’t quite follow, but like some odd form of hydrotherapy, they eased his tensions, relaxed him, made him see things more clearly and even through the haze of Firewhiskey, they made him think twice. Had she not have been here today, Salazar alone knew what might have transpired between him and his son. That thought still frightened him … As did the thought of what he might have done to himself….

Hermione saw the wry smile on Lucius face falter, replaced with a look of abject terror that she hadn’t seen since that first nightmare. Fear gripped her own heart, consternation settling on her pretty face.

“What might I have done to my own son had you not have been in this house?” His concern for Draco overshadowing any harm he might have inflicted upon himself.

Lucius reached for the glass tumbler, Hermione was out of her seat and at his feet before, his long fingers curled around the heavy crystal, her own fingers wrapping around his.

“You said the same thing about me Lucius, I think in our own, very different ways both Draco and I are more than capable of standing up to you. There would have been an equal number of sparks, if perhaps less words from Draco and the outcomes might have been a little different….” She gave him a small cajoling smile, which although he didn’t return, she saw a small sparkle in his grey eyes.

“We would have _survived._  You have to stop thinking the worst of yourself.”

She felt Lucius fingers curl tightly around her own, his other hand came to stroke her cheek and he shook his head.

“How can I? Everything reminds me of the awful things I have done. Even my son who I would die for and your beautiful face, a woman who, who does not even deserve to give me the time of day, let alone anything else.”

Hermione was shocked by his revelation, if not but his guilt.  Stupidly she hadn’t considered herself or even Draco for that matter as reminders of the past, but of course it stood to reason they would be, just like Narcissa, which could be a contributory factor as to why she had suddenly left. Memory triggers could be any number of things, a sound, a smell, of course people and faces went without saying. Hermione admonished herself silently for such a basic oversight. She brushed her thumb against the sore raised flesh on Lucius pale white hand, the strong scent of alcohol now mixing with his heady cologne at her close proximity.

“I cannot speak for Draco, that really is something you should talk to him about, but I can speak for myself.” She glanced at the dark wizard from beneath her lashes, his own gaze was firmly fixed on her thumb as it gently moved across his scratched flesh.

“The first time I saw Draco at the Ministry event, of course I thought of the past, that horrible spoilt boy I was at school with and his equally despicable father, who as it happened, was also at the same event and who was very polite and quite charming.”

Still Lucius’ gaze remained fixed on her gentle caressing thumb.

“A little over a week later Draco and I had agreed to move on and you and I had slept together. I would be lying if I said I don’t think of what happened before, because I do, only now I find the two rather difficult to equate. I find myself wondering how could I be friends with a boy who had called me a Mudblood at school?  A boy who was nasty to all of my friends and who had been…. who had been asked to do some awful things. That just wasn’t right. Then there was his father, well where did I start trying to rationalise that, aside from the fact he was said friend’s father, he’d allowed me to be tortured in his home, he was a former Death Eater …..”

Lucius’ face was deathly white, she did not need to list his past sins, she had made her point.

“You don’t forget any of those things, be they good or bad, they are memories, they are what makes you the person you are today, and be they good or bad you do have to live with them, but living with them doesn’t mean tormenting yourself every day with the bad ones. I made my parents forget that I ever existed, not something I like remembering, but I don’t torture myself every day with it. I would never last the week. I like remembering all of the fun, the laughter, the good times we had and hopefully the fact that one day I will be able to change it.”

For the first time in a long time Lucius looked directly at her, his pale grey eyes trying so desperately to understand what she was saying, how she was trying to make him feel.  

“Tell me honestly Lucius, when you look at me now, do you still think of the same things you once did?”

Lucius hand moved from her face to her hair, softly running his fingers through its still rather unruly length.

“No.” His aristocratic voice was clipped, this time with emotion and the tiniest hint of colour spotted his cheekbones.

“No of course I don’t. That feisty teenager, who was so outspoken in Flourish and Blotts is still there, and I still see that same vulnerable teenager on the floor in my home……” His voice almost cracked.

“But I see that feistiness in a very different, very passionate way now. I see a very different young woman on the floor in my home, but I feel guilty that I do, I shouldn’t forget what….” His voice broke in earnest this time, unable to complete the sentence.

It was Hermione’s turn to flush at his words, stopping him very quickly at where his words were ultimately leading.

“Lucius you won’t forget, trust me, but tormenting yourself every time you look at Draco or me, or something or someone else that reminds you of the past, isn’t healthy, you have to move on. You will always know what you did, that won’t change, but you will change and you have. Like I said, if I thought you were still that man, I wouldn’t be here.”

She could see Lucius’ memories had taken him back to those dark days in Malfoy Manor, when his deranged sister in law shrieked and screamed about the place, when he wasn’t in control in his own home.

“Personally, I would much rather you think about me writhing on your floor in passion in your arms, than in pain in Bellatrix’s.”

His eyes flew to her face: “One I don’t want to forget, the other I don’t think I ever can.” His voice was hushed and sad.

“I thought the same.” She said, her tone reassuring and empathetic.

 “When Draco asked if I could come here, instead of meeting in London, I didn’t think I would ever be able to set foot in this house again, but I did. The memories were still there and it was hard, but by the time I came back with you, they were nowhere near as strong or so terrifying. I can never forget what happened to me here, but time passes and you allow the bad memories to fade, be replaced by new ones. Being naked on the floor with you this morning is going to be more prevalent in my mind than anything else for a while.” She had once more brought this back to a very personal level, but if the sex she’d had with Lucius was that way of reaching him, she had to use it.

The little hue of red once more graced Lucius, cheekbones and Hermione couldn’t resist reaching up and touching the warm spot of colour.

 “If Draco walked in now and said to you, do you remember that time when Granger was on the floor… what would be the first thing you thought of?” The little spot of red increased on Lucius cheeks, silently answering her question.

Her smile was more than a little conspiratorial causing a small curling of Lucius lips.


	51. Full Circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione continues to talk to Lucius but where will they go from here........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My continued thanks for kudos and comments and my usual apologies for any errors etc.....

 

Trading in on the fact she had managed to get a very small smile out of Lucius, Hermione hoped that the simmering pot had cooled just a little bit, the thought of a simmering pot however, reminded Hermione that she was parched. She felt like she had been talking forever and she hadn’t had any kind of libation since the cup of tea she had made herself earlier, before all hell broke loose.

“How about we trade the Firewhiskey for something a little more appropriate for this time of day?”

She got an indiscernible nod of agreement from Lucius as she rose from the floor. He was obviously about to summon one of the house elves, but she stopped him.

“No, please don’t, I know where the kitchen is and I am sure my feet with be more than happy to feel circulation return to them.” Hermione flexed her ankles, trying not to jump around like an idiot as pins and needles shot their way into her numb feet.

“I think I have actually spent more time on the floor in this house than on regular surfaces.”

The pain and the desolation in Lucius’s face had diminished, it was a genuine if rather weak and somewhat sheepish smile which curved the lips of the dark wizard at her words, and Hermione couldn’t resist the urge to brush her own over them. The surprise that crossed his face as they connected with his, unsettling and embarrassing her. Despite the sexual intimacy they had shared and the passionate kisses during it, this kiss was a simple, affectionate gesture. It was evidently not something Lucius was used to receiving, and obviously not from Hermione, she flushed at her own action and how easily it came to her.  His surprise was replaced by the warmth she had seen earlier and keen to maintain the status quo and to hide her increasing awkwardness, Hermione extended her hand to Lucius.

“Come and talk to me while I make the tea.”

“In the kitchen?”

Hermione couldn’t restrain her laughter, it was quite possibly relief, but the look of sheer horror on Lucius’ face, coupled with the disbelief in his haughty, aristocratic voice was quite priceless, lightening what had been a very oppressive hour or so.  It occurred to Hermione, that perhaps Lucius had never been into the kitchen at Malfoy Manor? Now that wasn’t so difficult to believe.

“Yes Lucius in the kitchen.” The two raised brows were an open invitation to Hermione’s sarcastic whit.

“Yes it’s usually a small room, where cooking and such like is done, making the tea included. Unless of course things are done differently in country manors.”

Her sarcasm and obvious amusement, was clearly directed at him, but it was infectious, each word she spoke, quelling his anger just a little bit more, driving the despair further and further away. Lucius found himself not wanting to be parted from it or from her, even if it did mean venturing into a room he had probably been in about half a dozen times in his entire life.  The thought however of watching her do something so mundane, had an oddly cathartic effect on him, finding even more tensions ebbing from his body, and with an almost childlike enthusiasm, he rose from his chair and took her small hand in his.

 

“You look quite at home in my kitchen.”

It was sometime before Lucius spoke, looking a little the worse for the alcohol, he had seated himself at the well-worn wooden table, in one of the matching, overly large chairs, watching as the young witch busied herself with the kettle and cups, choosing to do everything herself and without the aid of any magic.

“I’ve been in here a couple of times and made myself tea. I don’t like asking Miffy to do such silly little things for me.” She gave Lucius an apologetic smile, knowing full well the little creature probably did a lot sillier little things for the Master and Master Draco.

“Your views on the use of house elves are well known Hermione, I would say I am hardly surprised that you have found your way around my kitchen, but I am probably even more surprised that you are even in my kitchen.”

That familiar easy tone had slipped back into his voice, and despite the alcohol his senses and words were as keen as ever.  The last thing Hermione needed was to get into an ethical debate with Lucius on the use or misuse of house elves, so she latched on to the latter part of his comment.

“I must confess it took me a while to find things the first time around, I had to use the odd accio but once I knew where everything was.” To demonstrate her point, Hermione placed a large steaming cup in front of Lucius, a jug of milk and small matching bowl of sugar at the side.

“I don’t know if you take either.” She offered, sitting herself opposite Lucius in another of the oversized chairs.

He added a small dash milk to his brew, but no sugar. “Thank you.”

His thanks were genuine and Hermione got the distinct impression it was for more than just the tea. She nodded briefly, sipping her own much needed cuppa. Her mother was a firm believer in tea, hot and sweet, it was the remedy or solution to just about everything that happened in life, Hermione had more often than not laughed at the notion, but over the last couple of weeks or so, she had begun to think her mother could actually be right.  She noticed Lucius seemed to have gathered both himself and his thoughts, separating him from the Firewhisky and replacing it with tea, had been a lot easier than she had anticipated.

“Tell me Hermione are you this patient with…. what do you call the people you talk to in your work?”

“Funnily enough patients.” She squirmed a little bit at Lucius’ question feeling perhaps he was a little closer to the truth than she would like.

“I have to have patience in my job, so yes I like to think so, but you are not a patient Lucius.” She tried not to reiterate the point too forcibly, for fear Lucius might think she doth protest too much.

If Lucius had any suspicions or thoughts about her motives for being here he did not voice them. He was evidently curious though.

“So how do you see me Hermione?”

It was Hermione’s turn with the wry smile at Lucius phraseology, it clearly did not go unnoticed by the dark wizard.  Who sipped casually on his own tea, his grey eyes sparkling over the rim of the fine bone china cup.

“A Lot differently to how I once did, that’s for sure. But I assume you were perhaps still referring to my work.”

How in Merlin’s name did she do it Lucius wondered. A little while ago, he had wanted to drink himself into unconsciousness, never wanting to wake from it. He had been about to explode, desperately trying to hold onto his temper and quite possibly about to hex his own son. He hadn’t been particularly pleasant to Hermione either, and yet here they were. Sitting in his kitchen of all places, calmly sipping tea as if it were an everyday occurrence, as if nothing had happened. She was even having a little fun at his expense, the window had opened again and that little ray of beautiful bright light had once more streamed into his dark desolate world, pulling him back with gentle and consummate ease. She, seemingly without any effort, made him see beyond that all-consuming despair and look at things with her own unique brand of lucidity. With a ridiculously simple offer off _tea_ , Lucius had willingly put down the Firewhiskey he had wanted to drown himself in, and his temper had long since cooled, with her patience and her logic.  Had she cast a spell over him, had she felt the need to restrain him in any way, had she felt any fear. The answer to all of that was quite simply, no. In some ways her strength of character, her determination and her resolve made him feel ashamed, he would like to possess half of them. Lucius had to admit he was in awe.  

“Well if we must talk work.” Hermione feigned a little sigh of disappointment. She was going to start her response to Lucius with the word, truthfully, but she felt she wasn’t about to be entirely honest with him, so decided against it.

“ _I see you_ as someone who can provide me with insight Lucius, as I said in Kingsley’s office. What you have to say, your experience it really can be of invaluable assistance to me, and in turn will help others.”

In view of what had happened, she wasn’t entirely certain this was the best time to be having this conversation, but Lucius had instigated it. The swift change in his demeanour showed just how volatile he was, and she wasn’t about to antagonise him any further by suggesting that this wasn’t the time.  She looked at the man sitting opposite her, his face once again pale. She wasn’t lying, not completely, perhaps she was being a little liberal with the truth. But what he had to say, his experiences would benefit others, but more importantly confiding his experiences, what he had endured, in the her, would in turn help him. She couldn’t tell him that, but hopefully as he spoke to her, he would realise it for himself. 

“Do you really believe that?”

“Yes Lucius I do; I wouldn’t ask you to put yourself through it if I didn’t truly believe it. I know how hard it will be for you, but I know you can.” Her voice was strong and assured, because she knew above all else he would be helping himself and at the moment that was of paramount importance to her.

“My spending a day in Azkaban in no way compares to what you endured, and I know how much I am asking of you.”

Lucius seemed to gloss over her mention, of what he had endured, his brain fixed on the beginning of her sentence, he assumed she meant, when she was working at the prison, but it was the way she said it, the comparison she made, the tone of her voice, that told him something very different.

“You do not mean visiting as part of your work do you?”

Hermione wasn’t sure if she had intended to tell Lucius about her fleeting stay in Azkaban, she had really done it for her own benefit, well for Lucius’ benefit, if that was the right choice of words. She had simply wanted to give herself some idea, the very briefest of ideas, as to what it would be like. She wouldn’t lie to him.

“No Lucius I didn’t. I was at Azkaban for my job, but my _spending the day in Azkaban_ wasn’t part of it.” Here she was with the semantics again, but she knew they would need no explaining to Lucius.

“Although what I did, I did partly for my work.  I hate sounding insincere or ill-informed when I speak to patients, and when they tell me about the time they have spent in Azkaban, well I couldn’t really begin to understand.”  She paused briefly, watching Lucius carefully as she continued.

“So I spent 24 hours as a prisoner, I know it wasn’t long but…”

“It was long enough.” Lucius finished for her, his voice was quiet and distant, his beautiful grey eyes, tinged with sadness and something else, admiration.

“Yes, it was and these days it is nothing like it was when….”

“When I was there.” Again Lucius finished the sentence for her.

Hermione couldn’t speak, she nodded, finally finding her voice she confessed to Lucius, something she hadn’t told another soul. 

“The Minister knows I stayed, nothing much gets by him. He appreciated my reasons for doing I but I am not sure he completely understood or was entirely happy.

Lucius could understand Kingsley Shacklebolt’s reservations entirely, but he said nothing. Listening intently as Hermione continued with her shocking revelation.

“No one else knows this.  When I came home, I cried myself to sleep for three nights.” She felt the prickle of tears in her eyes and her throat burned.

Lucius had once more latched onto something else she had said: “You said partly.”

His voice was still quiet, but it probed gently, he tried desperately to ignore the tears he could see glistening in her big brown eyes, fighting an uncharacteristically overwhelming desire to give comfort, needing to maintain his distance or quite possibly reveal too much emotion of his own. That was definitely something he did not do.  

“Partly?” Hermione wasn’t quite sure what he meant.

“A moment ago, you said your stay was partly to do with your work.” His voice maintained a cold air of detachment, but his grey eyes exuded and unusual softness.

“Why else would you choose to spend 2 hours in that odious place, let alone 24?”

Hermione comprehended what he was asking her, she hadn’t realised she had used the word partly, but when talking to Lucius it was almost as if someone had slipped her Veritaserum, she just couldn’t lie to him.

“Partly……. because of you.”

A deep frown settled on his face, his brow furrowed, creases formed about his eyes, perplexion written all over his handsome face.

“ME?”

That glorious clipped tone of his was accentuated to the full, Hermione couldn’t help but smile at the tone that had somehow become so pleasing to her ears.  She nodded once more before speaking, uncertain as to how he would take what she was about to say, but still wanting to be utterly truthful with him.

“Yes you.” She said simply and emphatically. 

“We only spoke briefly about Azkaban _that_ weekend, and then there was that picture on the front of the Daily Prophet, it accompanied that hateful article, and had been taken in Azkaban.”

The frown along with the look of perplexity on his face deepened. Lucius couldn’t help but wonder what he had driven her to, his stomach lurched at the thought. Merlin what had he done now.

Hermione saw the ever increasing consternation clouding his features and elaborated.

“The previous afternoon when we were talking about Azkaban, you told me, I would have given you a way forward, when I saw that picture, I needed to understand exactly what you meant. I wanted to try and appreciate just what you went through, really understand just how I would I have given you that way forward, and what it would have meant to you. So I suppose Lucius in a way by doing this you are helping me both personally and professionally.”

With her words to Lucius, came an inordinate amount of relief, she had told him a good percentage of the truth, only leaving Draco’s request for help out of the equation. She felt so much better having been so open and honest with him. She only hoped that Lucius appreciated that honesty, but the look on his face did not convince her of that. Those micro mannerisms of his, not quite so micro at the moment, as his eyes turned the colour of slate.

“You would do that for…... for me? His voice was incredulous. “Subject yourself to…. to understand…. after I…. Hermione I…”

Lucius, the ever eloquent wordsmith, found himself at a total loss for words, garbling what he was trying to say. That anyone, let alone Hermione Granger would put herself through something like that for him, was inconceivable.  She had said she did not like to appear insincere, this went way beyond insincerity, no one had ever done such a thing for him, just to empathise with his feelings, his brain tried desperately to process everything that was racing around inside it.  Ironically she had come here to ask him about his incarceration and here he was wanting to do the self-same thing.

“Yes Lucius I would.” Hermione found Lucius’ shock, sad.

Had no one ever cared about this man in such a way. Perhaps it simply wasn’t the way things were done in the world of the pureblood aristocracy. She knew from their previous conversations that Lucius himself found it difficult to talk about his feelings, but surely love and support from your family, from your wife were unconditional. Again perhaps that was not how it worked in the pureblood world of the Malfoy’s. Hermione thanked her lucky stars that it had been a given in the Granger household.

 “Lucius, you are not my patient; if I am being totally honest I am not entirely sure what I would call you.” The small smile she gave him twinkled in her eyes, she went on quickly.

“But after what we have _shared, enjoyed together_ and even how we have merely talked, I felt I should at least be able to offer you the same level of understanding as I do my patients, I wanted to be able to do that, and for me there was only one way of achieving that.”

His eyes softened, once more defaulting to their luminous pale grey and Hermione continued.

“When, if, you tell me things, I want to at least have some idea, no matter how small it might be. The fact that it is perhaps so small, puts it into a greater perspective, that I cannot begin to comprehend. I am not making much sense here am I?

“On the contrary Hermione, you are making perfect. However, I am still trying to appreciate the enormity of what you did for me, just to understand how I feel. The slightly more distant past aside, after the way I treated you that Sunday morning, I am surprised you wanted to speak to me again, let alone consign yourself to prison for me.”

Hermione’s smile was gentle and reassuring: “You were hurt and you were angry, and thus we come full circle Lucius …...as I said about Draco earlier, he was hurt, he was angry, he took that out on you because you were there. That Sunday, you were hurt, you were angry, you might not have taken them out on me per se, but you lashed out at me by pushing me away. Lashing back out at you would have served no good purpose, we would probably have argued, perhaps said things we would both regret and not be able to take back, I didn’t want that to happen, so I decided to try and understand things better, my way! The results of which perhaps speak for themselves.” She shrugged her shoulders, giving Lucius an almost I told you so look.

They had come full circle, where they went from here, was entirely up to Lucius Malfoy.


	52. Food For Thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Hermione has managed to talk to Lucius, but what of Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as ever for comments and Kudos, apologies for the slow update this time....

 

Draco had pleaded with Hermione not to leave his father alone, but at that time he had been furious and about to down copious amounts of Firewhiskey.  The face of the man she looked into now was very different, the cold desolation she had seen not so long ago, now replaced by warm interest. Those eyes so distant and despairing, blurred by alcohol, were now bright and alert, once again focused on the here and now. His temper had cooled and he was now sitting in his kitchen calmly drinking tea. She felt safe leaving him, and after the deluge of information she had foisted upon him; Lucius need a little time to process it all. Feelings and emotions were clearly things he was not accustomed to dealing with, and Hermione didn’t want to push him too hard or too fast, he really had had enough to contend with for one day.  She rose slowly from the table, the chair scraping slightly against the stone floor. Those refocused grey blue eyes following her every movement.

“I think I should check to see if Draco is ok.”

The somewhat crestfallen look on Lucius’ face, made her want to reach out and touch it, she refrained remembering the surprised look on his face at her kiss earlier.  She had managed to maintain a balanced line between personal and professional and decided to try and keep it that way, for now at least, a little humour however never hurt with either.

“I’ve seen those baby pictures of Draco and I was at school with him, I don’t want him kicking the house elves.”

A knowing look settled on the dark wizard’s face: “Fortunately, my son no longer has any toys he can throw around, but perhaps it might be an idea.”

Hermione smiled at the sentiment, a picture of Draco Malfoy throwing his toys around in temper was not difficult to imagine. She however struck whilst the iron was hot, reiterating her earlier point.

“You two should, _need_ to talk, but I don’t think now is the right time.”

Lucius nodded his head in agreement.  In many ways the young witch probably knew his son better than him, talking to Hermione might come easily, but he hadn’t been able to talk properly to his son in twenty years, that wasn’t going to happen overnight.

Hermione moved towards the door, offering Lucius a reassuring smile. “I won’t be long.”

The promissory tone in her voice caused Lucius to smile openly for the first time, the lines about his eyes now creased from candid pleasure. Just as before he found himself inexplicably not wanting to be parted from her, but he was glad that she wanted to check on Draco, he too was a little anxious for his son. It would also give his racing brain a little time to calm down and take in what she had told him. So much had happened this morning, and it was still a little before midday.

 

“Granger!” Draco all but pounced on her as she entered his mother’s former sitting room once more.

His face was paler than ever, if that was possible, his blue eyes tired and anxious. His hair almost defying description, he had obviously been constantly running his fingers through its length, causing it to stick out in all sort of odd directions, he looked as if he had been subjected to one of Seamus Finnegan’s explosive accidents.

“He’s fine Draco, honestly, I’ve left him in the kitchen drinking tea.”

Draco’s eyes widened, his brows rising just like his father’s, he opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. A look of bafflement on his face, before he finally managed to utter another syllable.

“Granger, MY father, in the KITCHEN, drinking TEA, how in any universe can you call him fine!”

Hermione had to smile, she did see Draco’s point, obviously all of these things were totally out of character but surely they had to be better than him hexing everything between here and Hogwarts, or lying on the floor in a drunken stupor or worse. All of which Hermione put to Draco in no uncertain terms.

“Yes I’m sorry Granger, it’s well just…... I keep remembering what you told me before, about out of character things not being a good sign.”

Again Hermione saw Draco’s point, but he had seemed to have fixated on this one thing she had told him. After one lengthy and hard conversation with Lucius, ahead of what she was certain to be another, she really didn’t feel inclined to reason with Draco.

“I know Draco, but please, trust me when I say, in this instance, these are good signs.”

The young blonde shrugged his shoulders, he was more than happy to take Hermione’s word for it and was of course more than glad his father had calmed down and was drinking tea, instead of drinking himself slowly into oblivion. Whatever Hermione was doing or saying was fine by him.

“Is he still angry with me?” Draco asked his eyes falling to the soft rug on the floor.

Hermione couldn’t prevent the flush which rose through her body and coloured her cheeks, the recollection of the earlier passion she had shared with Lucius, still very much on her mind, despite what had ensured.  Reigning her thoughts in quickly, she spoke once more to his son.

“I think in all honesty right now your father is angry with everyone and everything, but mostly with himself. As I said before, taking it out on us isn’t such a bad thing. We can forgive him and talk to him. Others won’t be so forgiving or so keen to talk.”

Draco looked warily at Hermione.

“Do you think I should talk to him Granger?”

“I do Draco, you two really need to talk to each other, but not right now.”

Hermione knew that father and son should talk, they desperately needed to. But she felt it was something that needed to be carefully orchestrated, whilst not looking that way. She could hardly sit these two men down in a room and suggest group therapy. She constrained a smile simply at the thought.  Her stomach grumbled as her brain tried to think. Hermione didn’t think well on an empty stomach. Although not in Ronald Weasley’s league when it came to stuffing her face in times of stress, she did find that eating something focused her concentration. An idea suddenly came to her, as always she had to start somewhere.

“Are you hungry Draco?”

Two surprised blue eyes came to meet her questioning gaze, his brows knitted together in obviously utter confusion at the sudden change of subject.

“Random Granger, but now you come to mention it, I haven’t eaten since last night.”

Hermione smiled broadly: “Good, firstly you need to promise me to behave yourself, or I don’t know about your father hexing you, but I bloody well will.”

Draco nodded, he was more than well aware of Hermione Granger’s magical abilities, he might have angered his father, but he was after all family, he was far more likely to suffer something horrible at the end of Hermione’s wand.

“Right, we are going to the kitchen.” She said the words slowly allowing them to sink in, once again she saw Draco’s blue eyes, widen like Miffy’s.

“But…Granger, you said…. “

“I know what I said Draco, that I left your father in the kitchen and that I don’t think you two should talk yet. BUT, polite chit chat over a ham sandwich is not what I call talking to each other.  We, as in you have to start somewhere, and this seems like a good a place as any.”

The younger Malfoy looked at Hermione, he could tell she wasn’t really asking him, but was telling him, and deep down he knew she was of course right. He did have to start somewhere, and some chit chat as Hermione put it, over a sandwich would be easy enough, wouldn’t it?

“Ready?” Hermione asked Draco, her hand resting on the large metal handle of the door which lead to the kitchen.

Draco nodded his blonde head and Hermione pushed open the door. Lucius was still seated exactly where she had left him, in front of him, in the china cup was another steaming brew. He had either made it himself, which Hermione very much doubted or had summoned one of the house elves. She smiled at that thought too, imagining Miffy or one of the other’s finding the Master seated at the kitchen table.

A smile lit his face as Hermione moved fully into the room, it faded just a little as his son came into view behind her.  Pale grey met warm brown across the table, not a word was exchanged between the two, but the look on her face left Lucius Malfoy in no doubt that Hermione expected no displays of hostility.

Lucius also had the distinct feeling that she had probably had a conversation to that very effect with his son before she had allowed him into the room.

“Draco was hungry, and so as it happened was I, I realised in all of the excitement this morning, I didn’t get any breakfast.”

She noticed the merest hint of colour, spot both sets of Malfoy cheeks, both for very different reasons. Keeping her own face unreadable she addressed father and son, keeping the conversation just as she had said, chit chat.

“Ok, Lucius you said I looked rather at home in your kitchen, that could all change rapidly. Tea I can manage, but rustling up sandwiches might prove a little trickier.”

Draco had sat in the seat she had occupied earlier and she noticed he exchanged a nervous but good natured glance with his father, at her implied suggestion, that they were both going to be tantamount to useless when it came to offer any assistance with the task at hand.

“You could just ask Miffy.” Offered Draco.

It was met with hands on hips by Hermione, and a quick look from Lucius at his son which screamed for him not to go there.  Hermione turned her back on the two Malfoy men, a devilish smile on her face, putting herself in the middle, in the firing line as it were, all be it in fun was working rather nicely. They hadn’t spoken to each other yet, but Hermione felt sure once she had cobbled together a sandwich of some sort that would come.

“Draco, I don’t need a house elf to make sandwiches. I just need to find….” She punctuated her words with the opening and closing of cupboard doors, opting not to use magic as the visual was far more effective.

“So, ham, cheese, tomato?” She asked opening yet more doors.

The sight of Hermione Granger on tiptoes opening and closing doors in the kitchen of Malfoy manor amused the younger wizard, and despite his father’s rather foreboding presence, he couldn’t resist a little sarcasm at her expense.

“I think we might die of starvation before you find what you are looking for Granger.”

The remark earned him a small but genuine laugh from his father, who too was clearly enjoying the sight before him,

Hermione turned once more to face both of the blonde wizards seated at the large wooden table, her hands were again splayed over her hips, in her best Molly Weasley impersonation.  Seeing them both seated together after the heated exchange of words earlier was a sight for sore eyes, seeing them both smile was something else entirely. She hadn’t in her wildest dreams envisaged this scenario quite so soon but she made the most of it, even in feigned annoyance. She imagined the Weasley matriarch as she addressed the two Malfoy men.

“If you two can do any better, then I am more than happy to sit down and let you get on with it.”

The idea of Lucius and Draco even attempting to make the simplest of sandwiches, without the aid of magic or a house elf, was a stretch even of her imagination.

There was that little exchange of looks once more between father and son, she might well be distracting them from the important issues, what really mattered, but for now it was a giant step, finding a little common, safe ground, which ironically was her and an unmade sandwich.  To Hermione’s surprise it was Lucius who spoke first.

“For my part the kitchen is most definitely a woman, or house elf’s place.”

Hermione saw the teasing look in his grey eyes, knowing he was baiting her, feminism and house elves, two subjects Hermione Granger was passionate and well versed about. She turned her gaze to his son, who was looking suitably taken aback at his father’s words, Draco’s blue eyes’ met hers, realising she was waiting for him to say something. He couldn’t, daren’t match his father’s daring taunt, he just went along with what was expected.

“Me, oh forget it, I am just lazy.”

Hermione shook her head, actually more than happy with their responses. Both were as she expected from two such men, but both were delivered with an edge of amusement, but with their words came an underlying sense of camaraderie which she doubted either of them was actually aware of.

She had found the things she was looking for and went about making a small selection of sandwiches, which she put on a china plate and placed before them, along with some slightly smaller plates and some napkins.

She was busying herself with more tea, when she heard Draco speak again, his tone was slightly more hushed and she knew he was addressing his father directly. She didn’t want to appear to be eaves dropping, but at the same time she was fearful of the younger wizard’s tact and still a little warry of Lucius’ reaction.

“Father, earlier, I was, well what I said, I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean what I said.”

Pouring boiling water into the matching china pot, Hermione thanked Merlin both her hands were busy or she might have had the very unprofessional urge to bash their heads together, they really were as bad as each other when it came to talking. It was true, men were notoriously bad at discussing their feelings, talking to each other or even apologising, but these two seriously took the biscuit. However, she had to give it to Draco, he had made that difficult first move, even if it hadn’t been a full blown apology, it had been halfway there and it had been offered without any prompting. The kettle remained in mid-air as Hermione waited to hear Lucius’ dulcet tones.

“I too was hasty with my words, Draco, I should not have lashed out at you.”

Hermione felt a smug little smile tug at her lips, at Lucius’ use of her words, she still could have bashed their arrogant blonde heads together though. Not an actual use of the word, sorry, anywhere, but none the less, the young witch thanked Merlin for small mercies as she placed the tea pot and clean cups on the table. Receiving two grateful smiles from the two stubborn men seated either side, as they all tucked into the very skilfully made, or perhaps that should be carefully orchestrated sandwiches.

 


	53. Man's Best Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My continued thanks for comments and kudos, apologies as ever for any annoying faux pas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess you could say we are moving into the next part of the story so I hope you enjoy it.........

 

Hermione needed some fresh air. With the exception of Narcissa’s sitting room, the young witch had gone from one dimly lit room within the manor, to another. The darkness of night had ensconced her in Lucius’ bedroom, there was the angry oppression in his study and then the partially lit warmth of the kitchen, they all seemed to be rapidly closing in on her now.

Draco had all but fled the kitchen as soon as the sandwiches had been consumed, leaving her alone once more with his father, and Lucius had then excused himself _momentarily_ shortly after that, she couldn’t deny it was nice to have a few quiet moments to herself. Hermione noticed what looked like and outside door, at the far end of the kitchen. It hadn’t been one of the doors she had looked behind, whilst searching for things earlier, certain it wasn’t a larder or storage room. Tentatively, she opened it, delighted to find it lead onto the grounds, at what she assumed was the rear of Malfoy manor, relieved, she stepped outside. The rain of earlier had long since gone, giving way to some pleasant, and surprising warm early spring sunshine. 

Hermione found herself in a very different part of the manor, a small cobbled courtyard extended from the back door, it put her in mind of a Victorian novel. Dark stone walls on all sides, at least five maybe six feet in height, on opposing sides, the walls had two wrought iron gates set in their midst, both bore the Malfoy crest in their centre, intricately weaved into the ironmongery. Beyond the stone and iron, Hermione could see the tall trees of the gardens, exchanging their winter bareness for the dark green foliage of the oncoming spring months, they rustled and bowed slightly in the gentle breeze. Hermione raised her face to its gentle caress, savouring its refreshing touch and surprising warmth.

She looked from one gate to the other, wondering if either would lead her into the gardens where she had walked with Draco a few days ago. Her bearings were a little off in relation to the house and the gardens, the manor full of so many twists and turns, but in her mind she thought the gate to her left might take her in the correct direction. Outside there were three shallow stone steps, which lead onto another walled area, the walls here were much lower, the stone much lighter in colour, in the centre, Hermione could see a tall, rather ornate bird table, and on the far side, nestling amongst some rich green shrubs was a small wooden seat which she made her way to. As she sat down Hermione noticed in the opposite corner was a narrow grassed pathway, its entrance surrounded by a trellis covered in some creeping vine, tiny buds of flower poking their heads timidly out amongst the leaves and into the sunshine. She was wondering if perhaps this lead to the gardens off Narcissa’s sitting room, when amongst the tranquil quiet she heard footsteps. Well perhaps not exactly footsteps, but she heard something moving, something approaching her. She knew from her days at school with Draco, that Malfoy manor had some albino peacocks wandering about the place, she hadn’t seen any yet, but the sound she heard now, sounded a lot heavier than any exotic peafowl. The long slender head of a large dog appeared in the trellised archway, it was almost the size of a baby hippogriff, a small frisson of apprehension coursed through Hermione. She loved dogs; if they had been on the list of approved animals at her first year of Hogwarts, Cruickshank’s would most certainly have been a dog, something like him though, large and fluffy.  But she was acutely aware that she was a stranger in this house and the dog might not take kindly to her unexpected presence in his home. Hermione’s hand moved slowly, coming to rest on her wand, just in case she might need it.  The large hound moved, jostled by something at its rear.

“Merlin’s teeth!” Hermione muttered to herself, there were two of them.

They vied to fill the leafy entranceway, to get a better look at the interloper who was sitting in what was clearly their part of the grounds.  Shoulder to shoulder they moved fully into the courtyard, their golden brown eyes fixed on Hermione. They were beautiful creatures, with long legs, moving with the lumbering elegance of two, not exactly in the first flush of youth. Their pace increased, their tails swishing in unison as they reached the bird table. Irish wolfhounds thought Hermione as they moved ever closer, looking at their beautiful wavy coats, the greyish brown fur highlighted by the bright sun. Releasing her wand, Hermione moved her hands to her sides, opening the palms flat towards the two hounds, they were now just a foot or so away. Two warm wet muzzles, nuzzled her outstretched fingers, carefully she moved her hands, her fingers rubbing behind their well-groomed and appreciative ears. Amazingly the two dogs settled quickly at her feet, their size allowing their beautiful silky heads to rest against her legs as she continued her gentle ministrations.

“I see you have won Kauno and Isa over.”

The dogs raised their heads slightly to the sound of undoubtedly what was their master’s voice, their long tails wagging affectionately, but they made no attempt to move. Hermione did the same, moving her head towards the direction of Lucius’ distinctive voice, but not moving at all.

“They are so beautiful.” Her slim fingers continued to methodically rub behind the soft ears, occasionally stroking their equally receptive heads.

Lucius joined her on the small seat, his powerful thigh resting against her own in the confined space. Hermione’s body became instantly aware of him in a way that she had never experienced before. His own large hand stroked the slim head of one of the hounds, revealing a gentleness that she had not seen before in the dark wizard. At his obviously familiar touch, its trusting golden brown eyes looked adoringly up at him.  Hermione found her own gaze drawn to him in a frighteningly similar way.

“And so faithful.” He said almost wistfully, as if to reinforce his words, the dog whom he had been lightly petting rested its head on Lucius’ leg.

Trying to keep her tone light, Hermione spoke: “I didn’t realise that you had dogs, I haven’t seen them before.”

Lucius smiled indulgently at the animal as his hand continued to rhythmically brush across its head.

“Narcissa didn’t like dogs. They were confined to the grounds.” He explained, a little resentment seeping into his low tones.

“They have kennels but if they did come inside, they were only allowed in my study. The have the run of the outside, except the rose garden and they to be perfectly honest they do love being outdoors.”

Hermione watched Lucius’ hand slowly, unconsciously drifting across the head of the dog, it eyes closing with each gentle movement, still smiling to herself and the unaccustomed tenderness he showed.

“I suppose Wolfhounds are bred for hunting, they are outdoor dogs after all, but I could never have kept them outside.”

Lucius blue grey eyes came up to meet hers. “You know your dogs,” He said, the resentment in his voice gone and replaced by surprise.

“Only a little” Hermione admitted quickly. “I do love dogs though. I was just thinking when they appeared, how I wished dogs had been on the list of _other equipment_ at Hogwarts. Cats are so selfish and independent.”

“I grew up with dogs, I think as a child I spent more time with the dogs than I did with my family, until I went to school that was.” Lucius smiled, a genuine smile that lit his eyes.

Since he had sat next to her, he hadn’t once stopped stroking the dog, she wasn’t sure which one it was, Kauno or Isa. It was the first time Lucius had mentioned his childhood, oddly it wasn’t difficult to imagine the young Lucius whiling away his time about the manor with the hounds, walking, sitting in the extensive grounds with them, perhaps hiding from his parents. His large hand continually petted the blissfully happy hound, it reminded her of something she had learnt in an early psychology class. She worded her recollection to Lucius with care.

“People say you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat an animal.”

Lucius was quite enthralled by her statement, she not only brought him new life experiences but also knew knowledge, something Lucius always enjoyed. “How so?”

As she became more involved with her conversation, Hermione had momentarily stopped rubbing the dog’s ear, a large greyish snout moved impatiently against her leg, its golden brown eyes looking at her pleadingly.

“Oh I am sorry, sweetie, did I stop?” She addressed the indignant furry face, her hand once more returning to the soft curly ears of the happy dog, her attention returning to Lucius who was viewing her with obvious amusement, which she ignored, addressing his question.

“There is a theory that, if you mistreat them from an early age, it can predict the kind of person you may turn out to be, that along with setting fire to things.” Lucius’ blue grey gaze remained fixedly upon her at the revelation.

“I imagine there are a few people we both know who tortured many a toad as children, pulled the feathers out of owls and revelled in an incendio or two.”

“I don’t doubt that for one minute.” Despite the dark associations, Lucius could not restrain a small smile.

The ease of their conversation despite the shadowy connotations, took Hermione’s mind down another inquisitive track.

“If Mrs Malfoy didn’t like dogs……” She stopped herself quickly, realising she was crossing _that_ line again, reminding herself sharply that poking around in Lucius’ mind to help him was one thing, poking her nose into his private life was off limits, and she silently chided herself.

“It’s alright Hermione, you do not have to tread on dragon’s eggshells, I do not mind answering any of your questions.”

“I didn’t mean to pry; I was just curious as to how you managed to come by these two beautiful creatures if Mrs Malfoy didn’t like dogs.”

The smile dropped from his eyes, the one that remained on his lips became rueful.

“It was a compromise, as I realise much of my marriage was. Kauno and Isa here are direct descendants of a dog owned by my father, it made them _permissible_.”

His voice became scornful and strained, and Hermione noticed his petting of the dog become more forceful.

“When I returned from Azkaban, to be honest I was surprised that they were still here, between Narcissa’s distaste for them and the Dark Lord taking over my home I doubted they would have survived.”

Hermione looked at the two gentle animals in abject horror, the notion that anyone could willingly harm such beautiful creatures both enraged her and hurt her. Of course nothing surprised her about Voldemort, but she expected more from Lucius’ wife.

“Merlin help anyone who would lay a finger on a dog of mine.” She couldn’t help her outburst.

“I abhor cruelty of any kind, but especially to a defenceless animal.” Hermione paused watching Lucius intently.

“I am just inordinately grateful that they were still here when I got home, home if you could call it that by then. I was just grateful, that no harm had come to them.” His eyes were firmly fixed on the head of the dog before him, his hand had stilled, and the soft bewhiskered muzzle rested in his palm, his thumb gently brushing its long snout.

“If I’d lost them too, I don’t think …...” His voice trailed off

Hermione was stunned by his words, and where his admission was about to lead, she would never have imagined Lucius Malfoy to have such a soft heart when it came to, well when it came to just about anything, let alone dogs.

“But you didn’t.” She replied quietly, her free hand coming to rest reassuring on his leg, just as it had done before.

She looked at Kauno and Isa and then back at their master: “They were here, faithfully waiting for you.”

There was bitterness in his face and in the derisive laugh that escaped his lips: “They were the only thing that was, unconditional love, that’s what you get from dogs. No matter how badly you fail, no matter how much you let them down, they will love you unconditionally. I had gone away, I had left them, but the day I returned….” His voice became choked with emotion.

Hermione felt her own fingers tighten against the abrasive material of his trousers, urging him to continue.

He found his voice again, albeit with those same hushed and bitter tones: “The day I returned, they still looked at me with love, greeted me with affection as if I had been gone no more than a day. My wife looked at me with cold contempt, my son looked at me with bitter disappointment and the man whom I had poorly placed my allegiance to, publicly humiliated me and treated me like the utter failure I was.”

Lucius heard the sound of his own voice in the silent, sun drenched courtyard. The tones unmistakably his own, but the words themselves so alien to him. They had been swirling around in his head over and over, for days, weeks, months, maybe even longer, never allowing him any peace, never had he expected to utter them out loud. He glanced at the young woman seated quietly and unbelievably so completely at ease by his side. It was an oddly intimate scene, perhaps more so than even the sexual contact they had shared. Their bodies connected by only the briefest of touches of a leg and her slender hand, but as they both gently stroked Kauno and Isa, he somehow felt they were connected on a much deeper level and in so many ways.

Lucius had shared part of his body before, although even then, never had it been quite so completely or so uninhibitedly, but he had never shared so much of his mind in any way, and never in his entire life had he shared, or expected to share, part of his soul.

 


	54. Windows To The Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucius continues to open up to Hermione...........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My continued thanks for all of your comments and kudos. From me apologies for any errors be they grammatical or something more serious, I hope they do not spoil you enjoyment.

 

Hermione did not want to belittle Lucius’ feelings in any way. She certainly couldn’t dispute any of them either, in fact, or from anything she had been taught. How he interpreted things, how he felt about them, they were individual to him alone, as she had told him before, there was no right or wrong. Trauma manifested itself in many different ways and affected people in many different ways, it was like grief and like grief how each person dealt with it was very different. She felt sure that Narcissa Malfoy did have cold contempt for her husband. It was unfair of her to judge, she didn’t even know her, but cold was a word she had no trouble attributing to Lucius’ wife.  Knowing how Draco had incessantly sung his father’s praises whilst they were at school, she was equally as certain that he would have been bitterly disappointed in him. And following such unforgivable failures like the debacle at the Department of Mysteries, Lucius’ humiliation at the hands, and no doubt wand of a man he had revered, all be it in vain, would have been merciless and absolute. 

All of those feelings compounded and made to feel a hundred times worse by the inexorable fact that Lucius had spent the last year languishing alone in a godforsaken prison, suffering Merlin alone knew what at the hands of Dementors. Already feeling he had been abandoned to his fate by his family and of course Lord Voldemort. Even with the torturous, draining presence of the ghostly, cold creatures, knowing somewhere, beyond the soul destroying, damp grey stone, someone loved you, believed in you, would have given you the faintest glimmer of hope, _a way forward._  The words haunted the young witch, swirling around in her head like the loathsome Dementors themselves. Lucius clearly had none of that to try and hold onto, or to give him a way forward.

She couldn’t knowingly or honestly say to him it couldn’t have been that bad, not even in simple reassurance. Her own experience, brief as it was, had been awful enough, but it would have paled in comparison to what Lucius had endured. In her heart of hearts, Hermione knew not only was it **that** bad for Lucius, but it really had been a hundred times worse and all these years later it still visibly tormented him.  For him, she could see, there had never been any liberty from the prison, from which he had been supposedly freed. He had returned home, or to a place he once called home, to a world of equal uncertainty and fear. It should have been a place where he felt safe, welcomed, and above all else loved. But he simply seemed to swap one living hell for another, suffering at the hands of others, just as he suffered at the hands of the Dementors of Azkaban. Hermione could not help but feel suffering at the hands of those you loved must have been so much harder to bear than anything the Dementors had inflicted upon him.

Her own hands constricted, one amidst the soft comforting fur, the other against Lucius’ powerful thigh, the tension in his body painfully obvious, even to the lightest of touches.  Hermione wasn’t sure which track to take with him, remain silent and merely allow him to continue, or not as the case maybe, at his own pace, or to lightly cajole and reassure him with words of her own. Lucius answered the unspoken question for her, his clipped cut glass tones once more breaking the hushed tranquillity.

“To see such contempt, such disappointment reflected in the faces of those you love, having already endur…. after everything, it makes you question your own worth.”

Hermione fought desperately to maintain her composure as well as her professionalism. Lucius’ admission was heart-breaking, especially from a man like him, even the man he had once been, more so even for that man he had once been.

“As if the cold contempt of the woman you have loved your entire life was not bad enough, then add in the bitter disappointment of a child you adore and whom you so wanted to look up to you.”

Lucius’ blonde head dipped forward ever so slightly, Hermione didn’t look directly at him, casting a side long glance only at the man who had once been so feared amongst his peers, and so reviled by others.

“Just when you imagine that things cannot possibly get any worse. You are humiliated in the home you have held sacred, in front of those very people you loved, by a man who you, now foolishly realise…...”

Lucius fell silent, Hermione too remained quiet, just listening, continuing to reassure the dark wizard of her presence with the lightest of touches. He finally continued, his words sounding like he was surmounting some enormous mountain. Hermione felt sure that in his own way, that was precisely what Lucius Malfoy was doing.

“It was like having a king in your house, the Dark Lord had chosen my home, he had chosen me, it was a ringing endorsement of his support, of his respect for me and my family. It was my chance to take my place at his side.” There was another aching pause.

“Even a year in Azkaban had not dulled my senses or my mind to that extent. It quickly became clear that the Dark Lord had no respect for me, I knew something was wrong, very wrong but it was actually a lot worse than even I had anticipated.  What followed……”

Lucius didn’t know if he was capable of putting into words what had followed. He had never spoken of it with either his wife or his son, and although many were dead, long since banished, or themselves residing in Azkaban, it had never been spoken of outside of that room. Could he honestly recount the fear and humiliation he had suffered quite literally at the white, taloned hands of the Dark Lord? His scathing, demeaning words, his complete emasculation before his wife and his son, not to mention his fellow Death eaters had been horrifying. The fear that he had felt that day, still caused nausea to cramp his stomach and burn his throat. The indignity still dampening his brow and his clothing with the clamminess of latent terror. As the Dark Lord had dramatically and mockingly snapped his wand, Lucius had wished his action had been accompanied by two additional words, avada kadavra.

He looked at Hermione, for once, her beautiful face was impassive, all of her emotion seated within those honey brown eyes of hers, they drew him in further, almost willing him to go on, in their depths he saw no judgement, no ridicule, but would he see those things if he continued? Her small hand rested against his thigh, he could feel it’s warmth on his skin beneath his clothing, he knew the answer to his unspoken question was no, it gave him the strength to go on.

“He said he wanted a wand, he might as well have asked for an arm, but the Dark Lord wasn’t going to take my wand.  I came from old old wizarding stock, he was in my house, I was an aristocrat, it was an ancient wand, he would pick on someone else. All the things I told myself, reassured myself with that day as the he walked around the table.”

Lucius took a deep breath, swallowing the nausea that continued to overwhelm him. He fixed his eyes on the velvety soft head which rested beneath his hand, as the sickly feeling subsided, he carried on.

“In the dim room he passed me, I tried not to breath, that thing that children do, if you do not acknowledge someone, then you cannot be seen. But then he stopped, he came back and he hissed my name, asking for **my** wand.” Nausea rose again like a tide through Lucius, his mouth dry as he continued to recount the dreadful memories.

“Even my wife, who sat at my side, silently implored me to concur. By then I could hardly breath, let alone speak, in my heart I knew I was about to die, he would surely strike me from behind, killing me, but of course he didn’t. It was much worse, so much so that I wished he had killed me. He snapped my wand like a dry twig, I still hear the cracking sound in my nightmares as he taunts my name. Such humiliation before my wife, before my son, but still he didn’t strike, I wasn’t even worth the effort of killing. I had failed, and it was clear that if the Dark Lord succeeded in his plan, there would be no place for me in his world let alone at his side.”

 

When Hermione had agreed to help Draco and speak with Lucius, she had expected she might hear horror stories as to what had happened to him the notorious prison, but never in the wildest stretch of her imagination had she envisaged some of them would have taken place in his own home, how his torture had continued even after his escape, by Voldemort and perhaps unwittingly by those he had loved, still loved. It was not surprising even after all this time he continued to struggle, and was still suffering.

She feared that Lucius’ recollections were drawing him into a very desolate place within his own mind. A place she wasn’t sure she would be able retrieve him from. Whilst she wanted him to talk to her, too much all at once might do more harm than good, especially in one who was so unused to speaking in this way. A wet tongue and a deep sigh reminded her of the presence of the hounds. Those deep almost knowing eyes, sensing perhaps the anxiety in both its master and his companion.  She didn’t want to trivialise anything that Lucius had told her, nor did she want to seem disinterested in any way, but she had her reservations about jumping headlong into such distressing memories all at once. Like jumping into the frozen lake in the dead of night, no good would come of it.

“I cannot begin to imagine after everything.” Hermione didn’t dwell on specifics, not Azkaban, nor Narcissa or Draco, or the actions of the Dark Lord, she cautiously lumped all of those bad memories together, focusing on the one bright spot that he himself had eluded to, distracting him just enough, whilst at the same time, not appearing to trivialise or show lack of interest.

“The joy, relief, you must have felt seeing these two again.” She unconsciously allowed him to process what she had said, seeing the light slowly return to his dull, lifeless eyes. Hermione spoke again, prudently, whilst not totally altering the thread of his admission.

“I still don’t know which one is which.”

The dark wizard’s blue grey gaze slowly drifted to meet her own warm brown, just as it seemed to have done so many times over the last few weeks. The brightness gradually returning their beauty, something lingering in their depths that the young witch could not quite fathom.

Lucius placed his free hand over hers, covering it completely, squeezing her slim fingers tightly with his own.

Despite the darkness of the conversation, or perhaps because of it, Hermione could not contain either the rush of emotion or the wave of heat that coursed her body at his touch. His eyes looked way beyond her face, deeper inside her than anyone had ever done. Whomever had said that they eyes were the windows to the soul, must have had Lucius Malfoy in mind when they said it.

His gaze left hers only briefly as he gestured first one dog; “This is Kauno” and then the other “and your companion is Isa.”

Their eyes met once more as his long elegant fingers that had been tightly clasped around her own released them ever so slightly, but not completely. Unhurriedly her hand was raised, Hermione watched as he brought it to his mouth, tenderly and deliberately brushing his lips across her soft skin.

“I think Hermione that quite possibly you are the only person who could ever understand, the only person who would even want to.”

Lucius was going to add, _even if it is part of your job._ But something stopped him, despite what she had said he instinctively knew this was more to her than just _insight._ Her reactions, her words, her compassion and her touches, insight was not a word he would have used to describe them.

Hermione once more struggled with her emotions, not for one moment expecting to be as affected as she was, both physically or mentally by Lucius’ recollections. Her brain frantically trying to process not only what he had told her, but that he had told her at all, and with such graphic eloquence. All of that, and of course the fact that the man behind these horrific memories was Lucius Malfoy, that alone took some comprehending. Perhaps just desserts some might be inclined say, she very much doubted the Weasley’s, would have any sympathy for Lucius Malfoy. Many might even consider it divine retribution for what he had wreaked upon others, Harry may have rescued Draco at the Battle of Hogwarts, but she suspected her old school friend would have little or no understanding for the plight of his father, not after what he had allowed to happen to Cedric Diggory or even herself come to that. 

She finally found her voice and the courage to respond to him, hoping her words didn’t sound hollow after such a heartfelt admission.

“I would be disingenuous, if I said I do understand, totally that is, because no matter what I have done or seen, I have never suffered at the hands of the people I loved.” Lucius’s face was steeped in unimaginable sadness and Hermione tried her best to remain, professional and empathetic, all the while fighting the very feminine need in her.

This wasn’t the time for humour as such, but she needed to keep Lucius in the present, not allow him to fall so far back into the past he would be unreachable.

“And the only two people who have ever humiliated me to any extent in front of others, ironically were your son and Ronald Weasley, that was bad enough. So I can only but try and imagine how you must have felt, and even then, I doubt I would come close.” She paused, studying his handsome but pained face. “But you are right Lucius, I do want to understand, if I can and if you will let me.”

The merest flicker of curiosity she saw in Lucius’ pale face was enough, she knew he hadn’t regressed too far, that she hadn’t lost him.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	55. "Make Me Feel Better"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After his revelations to Hermione, Lucius is in need of a little hands on therapy..........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincere apologies for delayed update, between being poorly and a dying laptop it all went horribly wrong. My continued thanks for kudos and comments and yet more apologies for any faux pas.....hope you enjoy

 

Whilst the sun continued to shine brightly, at the end of March its rays did not contain the same strength as they did during the summer months. As midday, had moved into early afternoon and it dipped lower in the clear blue sky over Malfoy manor, a distinct chill crept into the now slightly shaded area of the grounds. Hermione couldn’t supress the small shiver that emanated from her body or the tell-tale movement in her shoulders. She hoped that Lucius wouldn’t notice, his thoughts still so far away. It was a foolish notion, very little escaped the sharp, ever watchful eyes of the man at her side.

“It’s getting chilly.” He said softly, his voice sounding a little distant. “We should go inside.”

Hermione didn’t want to move, fearing it would break the connection she and Lucius had forged, but as the spot they occupied became even more immersed in shade, she knew with the thin indoor clothing she wore, it wouldn’t be long before her teeth began to chatter with the cold. She nodded reluctantly in agreement,

Lucius rose first, as always offering her his arm for the short stroll back to the manor. The dogs obediently remained, looking after their master and their new friend.

Hermione stopped alongside Lucius, casting a glance back at the two beautiful hounds, she looked at Lucius, who tilted his head in curiosity. Hermione gave him a small smile, once more looking at Kauno and Isa and then looking in the direction in which they had been heading. Lucius returned her smile, a little weakly but genuinely.  It was the first time she had seen him look anything other than pained in some considerable time.

“Kauno, Isa, come.” His voice was soft but firm and the two dogs obeyed his command immediately, rising and coming to his heel, they trotted along gracefully behind them as they moved back towards the manor.

Miffy was in the kitchen, when they returned through the back door, Hermione couldn’t make out what shocked the little elf more, Lucius presence in the kitchen or the two hounds that followed in his wake, her wide eyes darting from one to the other and back again. Clearly the Master never returned to this house through the kitchen, and certainly not with the dogs in tow. She imagined there were many ways to gain access from the gardens to the house, Narcissa’s sitting room being a point of fact.

The tiny nervous elf’s eyes moved to Hermione, looking as if she was about to speak before thinking better of it. She shifted from one bony foot to the other, anxiously tugging at the ragged shift of cloth she wore. Her eyes flitted back to Lucius, her mouth opening and closing once more. Hermione felt Lucius tense at her side, knowing he was probably more than a little fractious after their conversation in the garden, she quickly intervened, positioning herself between Miffy and her Master.

“Is there something wrong Miffy?” Hermione asked gently.

“No Miss Hermione, nothing is wrong but I have a message for you”

Hermione got the distinct impression, the for you part wasn’t the most surprising part of what Miffy was about to say. She heard Lucius draw an impatient breath and threw a look in his direction, it was accompanied by a raised eyebrow and a look which screamed at him not to say a word, unbelievably the dark wizard remained silent.

“Go on Miffy.” Hermione encouraged.

The elf’s eyes once more darted to Lucius and back to Hermione.

“Master Draco asked me to tell you, he has gone into town and then might finish the visit he cut short.”

Miffy had clearly been given strict instructions by Draco as to how to word the message, instructions which she carried out with great care and diligence.  Draco obviously felt enduring his mother’s _guest,_ preferable to any further outbursts of temper from his father. The lesser perhaps of two evils thought Hermione, or perhaps Draco was being considerate, giving them space to talk, allowing her to do what she had come her to do, without any further hindrance from him. 

“Thank you Miffy.”

The elf vanished almost immediately with a loud pop, leaving Hermione alone in the kitchen once more with Lucius and two rather bemused looking dogs, indoors was clearly all very new to them, but after a few moments wandering around they soon took advantage of the Aga which burned in one corner, seeming to realise they were not about to be banished back to the yard, the settled in front of the warm stove.

Hermione found herself on rather strange ground. She could hardly spend every moment here at the manor with Lucius, she certainly didn’t want to crowd him in his own home.  However, to excuse herself and go to her room would appear rude and she certainly didn’t want to offend him. She didn’t want to push him in terms of any further conversation, she was sure he’d had quite enough for one day.

He looked quite drained, his handsome face, paler than ever, and he looked so very tired, his beautiful eyes befallen by dark, heavy circles. He sat himself back down at the table, seeming quite comfortable there now. Hermione couldn’t help but notice the soft smile which curved his lips as he looked at Kauno and Isa, now sleeping soundly on the stone floor, she also noticed him stretch his neck and rub his temples.  They hadn’t spoken since he had commented on the change in temperature, enjoying a companionable silence as they ambled the short distance back to the house.

Putting the kettle on yet again, she moved behind the dark wizard.

It was a reflexive action, one which she had seen her mother do to her father a hundred times or more, when he had returned tired and aching from a long day in his surgery. The recollection causing a little apprehension to flow into Hermione’s veins, fearing she was being fanciful, she cast it aside quickly. Lucius jumped at her unexpected touch, tensing ever so slightly as her slim fingers tightened about his neck, Hermione almost forgot whom she was addressing as she shushed him kindly and told him to relax. Moving his silky mane of hair over one shoulder, Hermione’s thumb and forefinger moved just below his ears, squeezing gently but firmly, she felt him relax beneath the carefully applied pressure of her fingertips. The muscles in his neck were knitted together tighter than a ball of Molly Weasley’s wool. Hermione could feel them rock hard and unyielding as her she increased the pressure of her hand.  His shoulders fared no better, feeling the tension knotted together on either side as both hands firmly massaged them.  The kettle behind her started to whistle and she stopped, moving towards the steaming sound.

“Don’t stop, it feels so good.” His voice had that far away sound in it, but this time it was a drowsy, fatigued sound.

Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders, it was an easy gesture, all too easy in fact: “Your muscles are as hard as rock Lucius; five minutes of unoiled kneading is really not going to help at all. You need a prop….” Hermione stopped herself short, realising what she was about to say, she moved quickly towards the kettle and the all resolving cup of tea.

Her wrist was caught by his large hand: “I need a what?” He asked pointedly, his tired eyes fixed her to the spot.

Even if she could have thought of a good substitute for what she had been about to say, Hermione simply could not lie to the man.

“I was going to say you need a proper massage. Hot oils, warm stones, to be prone and relaxed.”

“Will it feel as good as what you just did to my neck?” Lucius could still feel her hands on him, firm and assured, with a softness which drew the tension from his body.

Hermione laughed. “Well, in theory it should feel even better and hopefully so should you at the end of it.”

Lucius brain was filled with the six words she had mentioned, he had no clue what the massage would entail, but his body was already revelling in the thought of her small hands covered in hot oil, relaxing his prone body, although even through his weariness, part of his body was far from relaxed at the idea.

“Make me feel better.” He said, his voice took on a dark incredibly sexy timbre, his words somewhere between a harsh command and a heartfelt plea.

Hermione’s throat constricted as his words, implying so much more than simply asking her to pick up where she had left off. That aside, she had only dabbled in full massage, a gentle rubbing of the neck, certainly didn’t count. Her test subjects being Ginny and Luna, who had both sung and groaned her praises, saying she should take it up for a living. Like phycology though, it was not something that was really practised or recognised in the wizarding world, usually the wave of a wand or some revolting potion sorted out knots in shoulders, aching backs and pulled body parts from Quidditch.  The thought of covering a prone and semi naked Lucius Malfoy, in scented oil and massaging his muscled body with or without the aid of a hot stone, was a very different scenario to your two giggling, slightly tipsy and very biased girlfriends. But how could she say no?

Her brain tried to equate Lucius’ request to make him feel better, to work. Treating the body as well as the mind, the two went hand in glove. Unfortunately, her traitorous body was not singing from the same song sheet, finding the equation even more difficult when Lucius immerged from the bathroom adjacent to her bedroom with just a towel loosely tied about his broad hips. 

When Lucius had asked Hermione to make him feel better, he really had no idea what he was asking. All he knew was he wanted more of that blissful sensation that had encircled his neck and seeped into his shoulders, slowly kneading away the tension that gripped his already taut muscles. Relishing how her small but assured hands hand felt against his skin, obliterating his physical and mental pain as only she could.  Not for one moment however, had he expected his request would find him face down on the bed in Hermione’s room with nothing but a small towel draped across his arse. His body was filled with both trepidation and excitement as he felt the bed dip under her weight and her lithe legs straddle his barely covered body.

Asking Lucius if there was a single bed in Malfoy manor, or transfiguring something for him to lay properly on, might have been a better option, but that seemed like hard work in the long run, and a lot of faffing about for something which was supposed to be relaxing. In the end Hermione went, with quick, easy and less fuss, even if it was possibly a lot more intimate, but then all things considered that really didn’t matter all that much.

She knew, somewhere at the bottom of her extended travel bag were the other things she needed, put there in case a girly evening or weekend suddenly presented itself. Massage was good fun to share with her friends, along with some wine and of course the promise of gossip or equally girly revelations. She wasn’t sure how it was going to work with Lucius, but she was certain this was one revelation she would definitely not be sharing with Ginny or Luna. 

Whatever else came out of this day, and despite all of the things she had heard thus far, she would at least have one pleasant recollection etched indelibly on her memory. The shock on Lucius’ weary face when she had told him, to properly appreciate his massage and reap the full benefits, he would need to strip. The look had been compounded still further when she had dismissed him into the bathroom, suggesting he wrap a towel around himself, then return and lie face down on the bed. Clearly he had no concept of what was about to happen or what Hermione was about to do to him. The young witch breathed a sigh of relief, at least he would have no expectations and she would not find herself having to live up to anything. 

Having retrieved everything, she needed from the bottom of her bag, Hermione had neatly arranged oils and stones on the nightstand, using only the briefest of magic to heat them as required. She’d slipped off her shoes and jeans, keeping on her long t-shirt and underwear, with Lucius laid out on the bed before her, she could begin. In her head, she tried to imagine it was Ginny or Luna, but without the giggling or the gossip and sadly without the wine, she could really do with something a little stronger than tea right now. She reminded herself, this was a form of therapy, treating the body and mind, she silently recited it to herself, needing to concentrate and keep herself focused on the task, at hand.

Hermione found herself desperately wanting to make Lucius Malfoy feel better, in any way that she could, she was beginning to realise, doing so on a personal level was becoming easy, she had to remind herself an awful lot more about the professional these days.


	56. Scented Oils And Smooth Stones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione endeavours to make Lucius feel better......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincere apologies for the delay in posting another chapter, being poorly turned out to be a little worse than I had envisaged and its not conducive for trying to write. So I do hope you will hang on in there with me. With that in mind thanks for comments and Kudos and apologies for any errors my medicated brain might have dropped in.

 

For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Hermione found her slender legs straddling the formidable girth of Lucius Malfoy. Two very different scenarios, both intended to aid him, both decidedly more intimate than Hermione had initially envisaged or even intended. As his taut, barely covered arse accustomed itself to her weight, Hermione wasn’t sure which was the most daunting or unsettling.

“Are you comfortable?” She asked, her voice sounding a little squeaky to hear own ears, her hands resting in the small of his back, poised to move, should he say, No.

“Yes.” He said his own voice appearing more than a little strained.

Lucius was not entirely sure, comfortable was the word he would have chosen to describe how he felt right at this moment. In fact, there was a long list of feelings way ahead of that particular one, that would have been a lot more accurate. To try and stop his mind, and his body, focusing on the obvious one, he began to silently list the others. Curious, nervous, surprised, each time he thought of one, it was followed by either, excited or aroused, and save the two hands that rested just above his buttocks, she hadn’t even touched him yet.

Lucius wasn’t sure if this had been such a good idea. He had enjoyed the intimacy they had shared; in fact, he had never known anything quite like it in his life. Of course, the sex had been amazing, but with it came something else, an emotional connection, a real joy, not just a physical release, it was a feeling completely alien to the dark wizard. But as his brain was quick to remind him, on each occasion, whilst she had not necessarily been the instigator, she had been the one setting the pace, taking control.  Changing that, might not have the desired outcome, so Lucius continued to quash his, excitement, his arousal, with interest, worry and surprise.

This was supposed to make him feel better, but all he felt, was more anxious and on edge. The hands she had applied to his neck and shoulders had filled him with a relaxed, calm feeling. They had been firm and assured, easing the crippling tension from his body. The tentative fingers that rested against his flesh now, made him feel frustrated, filling his body with a very different kind of tension. He heard her accio something, her voice barely audible, especially with one ear buried in a pillow and the other covered by his own hair. The tight muscles in his back flickered as he felt cool liquid spread across them, he thought she had said hot oil……….as the liquid continued to dilate across his rippling skin, Lucius felt it begin to warm and gradually heat. All his mind could focus on was the heated trickle, nothing else in his body was relevant or even seemed to exist, just that little stream of meandering hotness which moved hypnotically across his cool flesh.

Hermione had only done this a couple of times before, but of course did it the Muggle way, totally hands on. She had however decided that the occasional use of magic was acceptable, being both beneficial and enhancing. Accioing the things she needed for starters, it saved any unnecessary pauses or reaching for things. A wingardium leviosa, kept everything she needed floating around and within easy reach. It was also most enjoyable and very relaxing for the recipient, so she was _reliably_ informed by both her test subjects, when the first oil was applied with the use of an expandia charm, before actually using either her hands or the smooth specially rounded stones. It was this charm which now covered Lucius’ broad back in the gently warming almond oil. Her own hands remained exactly where they were, sitting at the base of his spine, her thumbs moving in small circular motions as she watched the shiny liquid move of its own volition, well almost.  She finally lifted her own hands, the small vial drifted towards her outstretched palms, tipping couple of droplets onto each one. Hermione rubbed them together, savouring the delicious sweet scent and the gradual warming sensation. the bottle returned itself to the nightstand and for the first time she placed her warm oiled palms against Lucius’, pale flesh.

Whilst Lucius still felt excited and aroused, it was difficult not to when her long legs bestrode his body just as they had the previous night. He felt his body twitch at the brief recollection, when her slight weight pressed his burgeoning excitement into the softness of the bed. But his mind and his body were now being completely refocused, every sensory nerve he possessed led back to the fingers sliding slowly across his back, spreading the oily warmth from the very tips of his shoulders and along his hairline. From the edge of his ribs, to the very base of his spine, where her fingers had sat, waiting to begin their exploration. From his very extremities, they moved, back to the long straight column of his spine, gently applying a little extra pressure on each raised vertebra. As her hands drifted carefully downwards, Lucius could oddly feel that the pressure remained, realising that it actually did, but the heated weight on the nodular points in his spine were in fact, those smooth stones she had eluded to. Lucius wasn’t exactly sure what to expect when she had mentioned hot stones, a vision of himself buried under a mound of steaming pebbles had fleeted across his inquisitive brain. He quickly banished the silly notion, as his mind and senses were once again drawn back to the sensations being created on the expanse of his back.

The sweet familiar smell of almonds, which had filled his nostrils a moment earlier had been replaced by another scent so familiar to the dark wizard, lavender. It’s aromatic flowery overtones reminding him of his mother, and for a second time that day he was transported back to some of the happier times of his childhood, an immediate calmness seemed to drift into his limbs, leaving him shrouded in a strange aura of peace, he inhaled deeply, savouring both the smell and the sensation which cocooned him.

Hermione’s hands skated over his upper body, gliding through the carefully applied oils, occasionally adding more pressure, occasionally lifting a stone and using it on his skin instead of her hands, tracing its smoothness through the slick warm oil, she would gently massage an area and then cover it with a stone, keeping pressure in that one small space as she moved onto the next spot.

Lucius inhaled intensely once more, ready to savour the almost balsamic scent of the lavender. His nostrils were overwhelmed with a completely different smell, one which he didn’t recognise at all. At first he thought it was jasmine, there was some in the gardens and it put him vaguely in mind of this, but he didn’t immediately identify it as the same smell. It’s rich, heady sweetness filled his senses, ebbing slowly into his body, in unison with her firm but gentle hands it had an almost soporific effect on him. Lucius relished every fragrant waft, every sedating touch. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

As his body and his mind slid further and further into the glorious tranquil state, he couldn’t even remember the other words in the silent list he had made, let alone how he had felt. Anything before the sweet, aromatic scents filled the air, anything before this blissful mellowness simply ceased to exist. A small groan of appreciation slipped from between his smiling lips.

Whilst his mind was barely aware of anything but the delicious mesmerising touch of her hands, his body became all too aware of her sudden shift in position. She was no longer perched directly on his backside, sitting on the small white towel. She had moved back slightly, taking the terry cloth with her as she did so, partially revealing his pert derriere, she now straddled and rested upon his powerful thighs, the muscles of which twitched sporadically under her sudden weight. Hermione felt the movements against the soft inner part of her own thighs and its reverberation against the very thin cotton of her knickers.  Pretending that this was Ginny or Luna clearly wasn’t working! The pale flesh beneath her own was all too masculine, all too potent and responding so very differently to the soft, very feminine flesh of her girlfriends. Hermione focussed her concentration as best she could, but as her hands moved to the soft swell of his bum and his lumbar region, she found it wandering yet further.

She had removed the stones from the length of his spine and now used only the light pressure of the heel of her hand, pressing him further into the mattress. The occasional groan which emanated from Lucius was not aiding with the already feeble attempts at concentration, that she was desperately trying to hold on to. She knew from the small contented sounds and the relaxing of his rigid muscles that he was feeling better, but Hermione got the distinct impression that wasn’t all he was feeling or that every part of him was any less rigid or quite so relaxed.

Determined as only Hermione Granger could be, the young witch scooted back yet further, effectively dismounting him. In a reflexive gesture, having had her weight removed, Lucius himself shifted, raising his lower body slightly from the bed, adjusting his position and no doubt himself, he spread his legs, the action causing the white towel to fall completely from his body and on to the bed.  Instinctively Hermione reached for it.

“Leave it.” His voice was firm, rasping almost, but laced with soft velvety tones. His words hung in the air.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen him naked before, but she sensed something was different. This had never been about anything other than Hermione soothing his mind and his body. Despite the inevitable intimacy such proximity would provoke, she had promised herself it wouldn’t be anything more. Was Lucius changing that or was he simply enjoying the freedom his nakedness afforded? She complied with his request. leaving the offending piece of material exactly where it had fallen and his beautiful body completely bare. Returning to the task at hand, she applied ylang ylang to one of Lucius’ strong thighs, perhaps she should have used something that wasn’t known to stimulate the blood………...

Through the blissful haze of tranquillity Lucius’ mind started to clear, the desires of his body beginning to take over, another odd desire surging through him, one that he hadn’t felt before.

“Dare he? Would she? Was he? The list of words that had invaded his mind earlier was replaced by a string of questions.

A strange tingling sensation tickled the back of his legs, a peculiar cold permeating the heat, it was something he could not describe as it ran from one leg to the other. Hermione’s deft fingers continuing to spread and knead the feeling deep into his skin.  It wasn’t painful, nor was it uncomfortable, it was just weird, so much so that he tried to move away from it, the action abrading his increasing arousal against the soft bedding beneath him. The heat from the oil, along with the heat from his body wafted a scent to his nostrils which tingled in the same way as he lower body did, mint, he thought, his senses alive all at once with the sharp pungent aroma. He once more pressed himself against the bed beneath his hardening body, he wanted to feel Hermione’s hands coated in those sweet smelling, sensual oils, but he wanted to feel them somewhere far more sensitive, somewhere guaranteed to make him feel better. 

“Touch me.” Again his voice was firm and rasping, still steeped in those dark velvety tones.

This time however, there was no pleading, just pure commanding. Hermione heard shades of the Lucius Malfoy of old, his dark authoritative tone, laced with that superior edge. But that dark superior timbre now made Hermione’s body boil, but no longer with anger or intimidation. The young witch found his arrogant, aristocratic tones raising some very different feelings altogether, now, unadulterated desire heated her blood. His authoritative tone and base need stirring a very carnal reaction in her, one which surprised even her.  She had been touching him, but there was no denying exactly what he wanted from her now, the dark thickness in his voice left her under no illusions as to how he wanted her to touch him.  She looked at his prone, gloriously naked oiled skin and latent heat pooled just about everywhere in her own body.

Asking Lucius to turn over would have been the easiest thing to do, it would have been _too_ easy. Nothing thus far had been easy between her and Lucius Malfoy but it had been extraordinarily and undeniably worth it. Devilishly, Hermione decided this was going to be no different, her mind whirring at a million miles an hour.  She had no intention of _just_ touching him, she didn’t have to seduce him but in keeping with the idea of the massage and whilst complying with his _demand_ she did intend on making it as sensual as possible.

From what Hermione, had gleaned, from not only their conversations, but also from their previous _encounters_ , Lucius had been satisfied sexually, she did however have, a peculiar, maybe unjustified feeling that it was no more or no less than precisely that, satisfying sex. She grasped the little devil firmly by the hand, for some reason Hermione Granger wanted to make sex more than just satisfying for Lucius Malfoy. A very small voice at the back of her mind reminded her she was supposed to be helping him, making him feel better, she assured it in no uncertain terms, that this would definitely make him feel better, maybe not quite in the way she had initially intended, and that easing his frustrations here, she believed would aid his recovery elsewhere. The little devil raised a very Malfoyesque brow. Just who was she trying to convince?

What Hermione knew about massage was little enough, what she knew about sexual massage was non-existent. She was guided purely by instinct, trying not to let her inexperience show. She dribbled a few more droplets of the stimulating tea tree oil on to her hands, assuming her position one more across Lucius’ strong legs. This time however, she allowed them to remain slightly parted and did not put her full weight on them.  She slipped her oiled hands between them, allowing her thumbs to lightly encircle the soft crease behind his knees. The with deliberate slowness she gradually moved upwards. applying a little more pressure as she neared the juncture of his thighs. Hermione let her imagination run riot, finding that those instincts on which she was relying were guiding her down a path of desire she had not trodden before, its heat and control, overwhelming. Way out in front now, and egging her on with abject glee was the little devil. Once more her attempts to help Lucius were leading her down a very sexual road. How in Merlin’s name did this keep happening?


	57. Sexual Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wonder if Lucius is feeling any better........enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me and the story, I am still playing catch up but never fear its all happening. So my continued thanks for comments and kudos, usual apologies for fax pas whatever guise they might take and of course welcome to "new people"

 

The stoic, ever present voices of logic and reason nagged away at Hermione. Never far away was the conscientiousness and diligence that Hermione applied to everything that she did in life, whatever it was, school, work, friends and even the almost unbelievable situation that she now found herself in.

Draco Malfoy had asked her to help his father; Lucius Malfoy had asked her to make him feel better. Hermione sincerely hoped that she was capable of both and that this was in some way an effective treatment of the two.

As her lips gently brushed his flesh, Hermione couldn’t supress the small, rather ironic smile which curved them. A short while ago she had felt more than a little self-conscious when she had briefly touched them to Lucius’, she felt no such unease now as they kissed their way across his lower back. Tiny opened mouthed kisses which ruled a definite line between his upper and lower body. One hand had moved, and still coated in the scented oil it danced across his back, retracing her _steps_ of only moments before.

Previously Lucius’ mind and his body had been utterly focused on the hands which had kneaded and stroked the tingling muscles in his back. Now his mind and his body were utterly fixated very much lower, torn between the heat of her mouth, which sucked and nipped just above his clenching arse and the soft, lightly lubricated fingers which moved provocatively between his legs. His body responding of its own volition, moving into her touch……. could he call those deliciously torturous lips, touch?

Small inconsequential movements they may have been, but in such close proximity, Hermione couldn’t fail to notice every one. Excitement was surging around her own body like wildfire, of course with arousal, but more with the knowledge of what she might, could do to him, the simple pleasure she could illicit from his prone body.  Her kissing and nipping moved from the hard masculine curve of his hip to his soft, fleshy, equally masculine arse. The temptation was just too great to resist; like seeing a shiny red apple in a bowl, the delights of the sweet taste far outweighing the consequences of taking it. The consequences of biting Lucius Malfoy’s quit delectable backside might be a lot more severe, but just like biting into the delicious fruit, they would certainly be worth the _risk._

It wasn’t so much the physical reaction which made the firm yet gentle sinking of her sharp teeth into his flesh so satisfying, but the guttural moan which slipped from his between his lips, slightly muffled by his hair and the pillow, nonetheless it was such an erotic sound, which evoked a very primitive response in Hermione, an oddly overwhelming desire to feel close to Lucius, close in a way she couldn’t describe and that was difficult for even her keen mind to understand. She felt a strange inexplicable pull towards the man beneath her, as if she were being drawn by some invisible force of gravity, almost wanting to be part of him.

The hand between his legs had drifted from the enticing apex of his thighs, back to knee where it had started and was now unhurriedly working its way back up again. She felt his weight shift beneath her. The small vial of tea tree oil came to her accio, a few droplets falling onto the skin reddened by her teeth.

Lucius shifted once more, as the cool oil began to tingle and warm on his flesh. Moaning as her thumb dipped into the small oily droplets, and traced the clenched crack of his arse. Down it went until it reached the sensitive area just behind his cock. Her touch was feather light, but coupled with the tingling cool, yet heated sensation of the oil it pulsed mercilessly through Lucius already highly aroused body. He once more arched into her touch, desperately trying to retrain his vocal responses, but under such intense pleasure it was impossible.

With another uninhibited groan of pleasure, Hermione understood her need to be close to Lucius, that strange pull, making her want to be part of him. It was exactly that, but it wasn’t entirely sexual. However bizarre it was, after everything that had happened between them in the past, Hermione felt so utterly relaxed with Lucius, safe even. Lucius, she knew did not enjoy that luxury, not even with her. Whilst he might be slowly getting there, learning to gradually relax and slowly trust her, it was by no means complete.  After what he himself had inflicted on others, after what he had endured, she knew that Lucius felt neither totally safe or relaxed in his own body or his own mind.  She wanted to try and give him that back, through herself, being so close to him, so intimate in this way, Hermione hoped that she could get him to let his guard down even more. Almost as if it was rubbing off on him, perhaps a childish notion, allowing that part of her to flow into him.

The remainder of her clothing vanished with a brief incantation and Hermione all but plastered herself the length of Lucius Malfoy’s body.

Her small soft feet rubbed his muscled calves, their thighs became flush against each other, hers trim and feminine, his hard and so brutally masculine. Her damp curls caressed the mound of his arse, her flat stomach against his lower back. Her pert breasts were squashed against the bones of his ribcage, her warm cheek coming to rest against his neck, her face buried in the silky length of his that covered his ear.

Hermione could feel every single breath he took beneath her, every tiny muscle ripple and every nerve that twitched. He felt glorious under her slight all-encompassing weight.  As his backside moved against her sex, Hermione rubbed herself provocatively against him, instinctively he raised himself from the bed, meeting her warmth, Hermione slipped her hands beneath his body. His gasp of surprise at her sudden, unexpected touch descended into a long-protracted moan, as her slim fingers, still coated in oil, encircled his already potent erection.

Once more the dark wizard tried to contain his vocal responses to her, taking a sharp intake of breath and holding it.

Hermione sensed that Malfoy resolve once more, felt it through his body. She wasn’t going to allow it, his comfort with his own body needed to be at every level, no matter how base a level that was.

“Don’t” She said with the same commanding tons he had used earlier. Her mouth so close to his ear, she spoke through the curtain of his hair.

“You asked me to make you feel better Lucius, you wanted me to touch you.”

She stroked him gently as she spoke, savouring the feel of his silky aroused flesh, Lucius let out the breath he had been holding, fighting to control his uneven breathing. The subtle weight of her body against his, forcing him further into her hand, her delicate touch, exquisite beyond words, the oil on her hands heightening every stroke to an almost unbearable degree.

“ _I want_ to know, I want to hear, how my touch makes you feel.” Her emphasis was on the I want, leaving Lucius in no doubt it was something she needed.

She didn’t have her full weight pressing against him and she was hardly heavy, it allowed him a little freedom of movement as well as herself. Her wet feminine heat against his bare arse was so incredibly suggestive, he could feel her damp curls teasing him. Despite her all-consuming hand, Lucius could feel every part of her, from her slender foot rubbing his lower leg, to the hard nipples against his back. His breathing was already more than a little ragged as her voice all but purred in his ear. Even through his damp hair he could feel her warm breath against his face, his breathing became a little more ragged.

“Do you like how I am touching you Lucius?”

Her hand was wrapped around his cock, her breasts were pinned against his back, as her wet heat brushed against his arse, yet his body flushed at her bold words.

“Yes.” His voice was a strangled pleasured hiss; one he didn’t even recognise as his own.

Hermione knew she was pushing him, although not hard, but certainly outside of what he was used to. But she could feel his body, every glorious inch of it, and she could feel it relaxing into her, well most of it. His flesh remained as rigid as rock in her hand, another sign that he was completely comfortable, with what she was doing and he was not distracted or anxious in any way. A little devilish curiosity crept into Hermione, it was always fun pandering to his ego, but she wondered how he would react to her reciprocating, there was only one way to find out……

“You feel so deliciously hard.” She kept her voice low, feeling him surge against her palm and hearing what she could only describe as a growl was answer enough to her unspoken curiosity.

Lucius loved the blissfully erotic friction her body was creating against his, he couldn’t touch her, not with his hands or even his mouth, but the way they were connected, the way his body was melded against her alleviated any hint of frustration that traditional lack of contact might have caused.

She ground gently against him, a flood of arousal pooling between her legs, dampening the swell of his arse, instinctively she pressed harder, searching for friction, her fingers tightening around the throbbing flesh clasped between them, the head was swollen and damp as his pleasure spilled onto her palm. In the small space beneath his body, she allowed her thumb to trace the tiny dewy bead that once more spewed from the tip.

“Hermione!” He sucked in sharp breath at her action, her name falling from his lips in almost surprised, agonised pleasure.

Between the white silky shroud of his hair and the pillow, Hermione could see very little of his face, but she was fast learning to read not only his body, but the inferences in the tones of his voice. knowing he had been about to say something else. She would push him and he would tell her, the boundaries were all gradually falling away. Slowly dragging her hand from the weeping tip of his arousal along his ample length, to the base and the balls just beyond her reach, she asked him….

“What Lucius, what do you want?”

Lucius’ mind swam with a myriad of sensations. His balls were drawn tight against his body, almost to the point of aching, his shaft was so rigid in the silky caress of her hand. He’d asked her to make him feel better, he’d practically demanded that she _touch him_ , could he really say what he wanted now, out loud?

“Tell me Lucius, I want to hear you say it.”

Even after such a short time, Hermione was familiar enough with his body to recognise certain signs.  She could feel what he wanted, she knew exactly what he needed. This in its own way **was** pushing him hard, getting him to say something like this aloud. She loosened her grip on his solid flesh, just her finger and thumb remained, teasing the head, playing with the small join of skin on the underside.

Years of breeding, of what was acceptable and proper were once again quashed, the desires of a man overpoweringly took over within Lucius Malfoy, the words tumbling hoarsely but without hesitation from his mouth.

“Make me come.”

His voice had that same commanding tone, but this time laced with a breathless almost pleading note, which made his words even more erotic. Hermione found a groan of pure pleasure falling from her own lips, the sound clearly having an effect on Lucius as he thrust upwards into her hand.

“Please, I…. argh……”

Her hand constricted around him, her musky sweet wetness stroking his arse, pushing him further into her tightening fingers.

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity Lucius could think of nothing but the here and now. Nothing beyond this moment permeated the sheer unadulterated bliss that was enveloping him, taking over his senses.  There had always been something gnawing away in the back of his mind, filling him with guilt for his own enjoyment. A nagging doubt of what was right, a hateful reminder that someone like him should not be allowed to feel such pleasure, the knowledge that it was simply an escape from the horrors of a nightmare. Not this time, this was pure pleasure, his mind and body so completely relaxed and at one, allowing him to just enjoy without guilt or consequences.

He should want to move, to roll her over and slip into her tight willing body, but he didn’t, he couldn’t, so enwrapped was he in the pleasure of her hand, of the feel of her against him, his senses were reeling. Right at this moment he doubted even slipping into that tight wet heat of her young body could surpass the ecstasy that was filling every bit of him.  

He could feel the gentle weight of her against his back, sweetly sensual as she moved against him, but not too heavily that it restricted the movement of her hand.  Her hand, Merlin her hand, it did feel so good. Lubricated by the tingling oil, it stroked and caressed him, her touch reaching every part of his aroused body. As his swollen shaft moved against her greased palm, Lucius felt a familiar ball of tension coil in his stomach, it built so quickly and with such ferocity, it threatened to completely overwhelm him. Hermione’s fingers tightened around him. He could feel her arousal wet against his backside and his world constricted into a small sphere of slowly spiralling ecstasy. Through the blissful haze of his impending orgasm, Lucius suddenly felt Hermione shuddering about him, her legs tightly wrapped about his own, but not in the usual sense. They clasped about his thighs as she abraded against him, her silky juices coating his arse, her hand contracting further with her own pleasure.

Their moans became blurred as one as did their names, the pillow muffling his cries, his hair doing the same for hers. But so close was she to his ear, Lucius couldn’t miss how his name sounded in her climax, with each of the three syllables she elongated it too, her fingers constricted and released around him. His breath almost heaved out of him, every muscle straining, hard and taut against the inevitable release his body was building to. The pleasure was almost too much to tolerate as finally it overtook him, his hot seed burst from his body, spilling onto the bed beneath him, covering himself and coating her fingers, lubricating them further, allowing them to milk his body for everything he had. Still he came, harder than he had ever done before, wave after wave of sheer blissful undiluted sensation, and with a mind and body that enjoyed only that one single pleasure.


	58. More Of A Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this chapter needs any introduction or setting up from me. Enjoy.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we are slowly getting back on track. So without further ado, thanks as always for comments and kudos, apologies for any faux pax and onwards and upwards (so to speak)...

 

Unlike on previous occasions, they did not just gravitate towards sleep. A strange, but not awkward silence hung in the air, like one of the candles in the great hall at Hogwarts, it lingered around them.

Beneath her she felt Lucius breathing gradually return to normal, his weight shifting slightly. The hand that rested against him was going numb and felt more than a little sticky. Hermione was about to make them more comfortable, cast a cleansing charm, but she was keen to preserve the closeness with Lucius, and had a better idea. Her mouth was still close to his ear.

“Do you remember that night at the hotel, I asked if you trusted what I might do to you?”

Lucius didn’t respond verbally, he simply nodded his head against hers.

“Do you still trust what I might do to you?”

Again, Lucius nodded, not sure if he had the strength for words. After what she had just done, after what she had spent most of the day doing in one-way shape or form, how could he not trust her? The words however remained unspoken.

Hermione smiled to herself: “Good” She whispered against his rather damp hair.

“Don’t move a muscle, and no charms of any kind.” She felt him nod in agreement once more.

The weight that had been against him for so long was suddenly gone, in one lithe movement it vanished and he felt strangely bereft and alone. Lucius remained perfectly still, not even opening his eyes, simply savouring the intense peace that engulfed him, and ignoring the rather uncomfortable wet patch beneath his groin, which was cool and tacky against his skin. In what seemed like the distance he heard her voice, it appeared so far away. He heard a gentle rustling noise and the sound of the sea or a stream perhaps, for a moment he wondered if he had drifted off to sleep, then he heard her voice, soft and clear.

“Lucius, I am going to blindfold you, is that alright.”

Hermione had no idea what tortures the dark wizard had endured in Azkaban, he said he trusted her but to suddenly put something across his eyes and plunge him into a dark unseeing world might be a step too far, maybe something he could not handle, something that would traumatise him still further.

“Yes” Was all he said, his voice still muffled by the pillow and his hair.

He felt something magically secured against his face, not tied around his head, just a silky covering against his still closed eyes, opening them to the fabric, his world remained dark and devoid of sight.

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure why she had felt the desire to blindfold Lucius, it certainly wasn’t sexually, or about domination, something in her subconscious just pushed her in that direction. She took his large hand in hers, guiding him upright she slowly raised him from the bed. Suddenly realising the blindfold was a test, of the trust he said he had in her.

Lucius followed without question, quickly adjusting to the fact he could not see, but feeling perfectly safe, safer than he had felt in a very long time. Holding her hand tightly he moved freely, feeling the cool wood beneath his feet and the sound of the _sea_ ebb ever closer. Beneath his bare feet he felt the polished wood change, to soft carpet and finally to shiny tiles, of course, how foolish of him, he realised the sound of the _sea_ was a tap running, a bath tub fast filling with water. His nostrils were again assailed by yet another scent, this time the zesty tang of oranges and something unfamiliar to him.

Hermione’s brain was once more falling into it’s neat split. The woman in her appreciating the glorious naked form of the powerful dark wizard. Devoid of his own sight, she was free from that penetrative silver stare, she could openly enjoy just looking at his body, without herself being observed. The psychologist in her appreciated the enormity of the situation on a very different level.  Not only was Lucius devoid of sight, and completely naked, but he had taken her hand and allowed her, without words or explanation to lead him, without question he had followed. In most people’s world that didn’t amount to a hill of Bertie Bott’s beans, but in her world and in Lucius Malfoy’s troubled mind he’d fought a horntail, and won.

The beautiful free standing tub in her bathroom wasn’t small by any stretch of the imagination, especially in comparison to the one in her flat, but she had never shared it with anyone, in fact she had never shared a bath or a shower with anyone period. She felt a little extra space wouldn’t do any harm, thus whilst Lucius had remained on the bed, with a little transfiguration she had made it more comfortable for two, allowing it to fill with hot scented water. Watching as the bubbles had crept slowly up the tub, she swished her hand around in the increasing foam. These were magical bubbles, they needed no help from her, but it was something she had watched her mother do many times, instinctively Hermione did the same.  She often found herself doing things, sometimes very small things, _the Muggle way_ it was silly she knew, but it was her way of keeping her parents close, keeping their memory alive. Like Lucius she had her heritage, it didn’t include rows of ancestors hanging on a wall, but she was as proud of it, just the same.

She guided Lucius to the edge of the tub, placing his hand on the curved rim. “Lucius, I want you to step in. I am right here; I will not let you slip or fall.”

With her firm assurance, once more without question he did exactly as she instructed, raising his leg and carefully, but deftly stepping into the still filling tub. Lucius’ weight brought the bubbles up yet further, and with a quick, hushed, finite, the tap shut off. The surprise in Lucius’ body language was evident as he realised the tub was perhaps a little larger than expected.

With her all be it slight weight, the water rose a little further, a few bubbles escaping and cascading onto the tiled floor. She felt the shock ebb through his body as she slid in behind him, her legs coming to rest either side of his. The stiffness in him was tangible, as she pulled him blindly backwards, as Lucius hit the softness of her chest, his head slightly above her breasts, Hermione felt him visibly relax.

The bottom length of his hair was now soaked by the water, Hermione watched almost mesmerised as some of the long strands clung to her own skin, the remainder floated amidst the foam, drifting in the gently rippling water. Hermione’s hands were impulsively drawn to it, just as they always had been, running them from the partly submerged bottom strands to the dryness of his crown, she repeated the action several times until the top became almost as wet. Those lustrous blonde strands now scented with, orange, tiny white bubbles settling here and there as it clung to Lucius Malfoy’s head.

“Tell me Hermione”

His voice was dark and low as it drifted through the silence and through the trance like state stroking his hair had allowed her to fall into. Drawn now as much to his voice as she was to his dripping mane.

“Do you think Kingsley would approve of your methods?”

His voice was now filled with the surety she was more used to, and she pondered his question, not entirely sure if, professionally she approved of her own methods. She had probably crossed just about every line there was, and broken almost every rule, and then some, about personal involvement with a patient. But he’s not your patient, not officially, that little voice of reason and logic inside her head helpfully reminded her. You are helping a friend, it went on further, Hermione almost nodded her head and answered it.

“Or perhaps you treat all of your **_subjects_** in this way”

Despite the sardonic edge to his voice and his obviously carefully chosen and accentuated use of the word _subjects_. Hermione was mortified, that he would even think she made a habit of jumping into baths or anything else with anyone, _subjects or otherwise_ , let alone turning a massage into sexual relief. His sudden burst of laughter was as unexpected as it was delightful.

“I do not need to be able to see, to imagine the look on your face Hermione. I can feel the horror dare I say anger in your body, through even this amount of hot water and foam.”

Being teased in this manner by the dark wizard was not something Hermione, was used to or had anticipated, least of all after the events of the day. The day, that was rather amusing in itself, it felt like it should be at least midnight, so much had happened in the preceding hours, but glancing at the clock, she could see through the gentle mist of steam, in her bedroom, Hermione realised it was a little after 6.30pm. She couldn’t help feeling just a little bit pleased with herself, after the fracas with Draco earlier and the conversation in the garden, she would never have imagined there being a point in this day, where Lucius would be so relaxed as to tease her in this fashion, let alone hear his laughter reverberating around her bathroom as he soaked in the tub.

The smugness that she felt at her achievement today, coupled with Lucius apparent good humour quickly chased away both the mortification and the anger that had rushed into her veins. Sticking with her tried and tested personal honesty and a little sardonic humour of her own, Hermione removed the silken covering from Lucius eyes as she spoke.

“Hmm well, first of all, I think, my report to the Minister of Magic will just say, we spoke at length. I am sure Kingsley would appreciate the need to make you feel _comfortable_ and of course as a representative of his office, he would expect me to treat you _respectfully_. _”_

His eyes fluttered open, adjusting slowly to the light and his surroundings.

“And for your information Lucius…….” She tried to keep the slight inflection of annoyance out of her voice, not wanting to replicate Draco’s petulance in any way.

“I have only ever tested my massage skills on Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley, and have never shared a bath tub with another living sole.

To her absolute astonishment Lucius twisted against her, the spontaneous and unexpected movement sending more hot water and scented foam all over the floor, some finding their way onto his handsome face as it came to rest between her breasts. His head just above the water level, the bottom length of his hair drifting out behind him like flotsam, whitened yet further with the white soapy lather.  Hermione struggled to focus, this was quite possibly the most uncharacteristic thing Lucius had done yet.

His voice rumbled gently against her chest as he replied.

“That perhaps is an image you should not put in a man’s head my dear.”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile, despite his inference, and the connotations in his words, they were as unexpected and decidedly male as his movement had been. For the first time Lucius, had responded instinctively as a man, without a second thought as to whether he was doing or saying the right thing, or what was expected of him.  Her own mind wandered a little further, her smile broadening and her face flushing hotly as she envisaged the reactions of her two old friends.

The sexy undertones in Lucius voice and in his face shifted, the cynical edge of doubt creeping into both.

“Are you only here because of your work Hermione, and that insight I can give you.” His grey eyes narrowed and darkened with his words.

A small frisson of anxiety crept into the young witch, she tried to keep it from her body, knowing Lucius would sense it, just as he had done with her horror, moments earlier.  She had promised not to lie to him and she wouldn’t. This was in fact, the perfect opportunity to tell him why she was really here, today might have been a huge step, but she wasn’t sure he was ready for that, or if he would ever be. Her agile brain raced as she considered those penetrating blue grey eyes of his.

“Truthfully Lucius yes I am.” The hurt reflected in their depths, pained her more than she could explain or understand, and she went on quickly.

“Or perhaps I should have said, yes, technically Lucius I am.” She saw the hurt in his eyes flicker to incomprehension.

“ _You_ invited me to dinner, _you_ invited me to lunch, but tell me, after what happened, would _you_ have ever invited me to the Manor under any other circumstances?”

It was an odd place to be having this conversation, it was also rather disconcerting the way in which it was taking place.  As if to reinforce the peculiarity of it, Lucius moved slightly, his body rubbing erotically against hers and sending more bubbles flowing onto the floor, the rippling water lapping against his face, tickling her already sensitive breasts.

Lucius regarded the young woman on whom he was now resting, against whose body he was quite literally plastered. She was right, as if of course there was ever any doubt. After the way, he had treated her that morning in the hotel, he wasn’t sure she would want to speak to him again. In hindsight, he knew he had reacted badly, had treated her harshly, but for all his age, and his experience Lucius Malfoy had no idea how he could rectify the situation. Then she had appeared in his garden with his son, after it transpired she had been in his bedroom the previous night.

Had she not have requested to speak with him through Ministry channels would he, as she had put it, have ever invited her to the Manor under any other circumstances? He very much doubted it, in fact he was certain he wouldn’t have.

Whatever his body craved or desired, whatever he wanted as a man, pride would not have allowed Lucius Malfoy to go repudiate his words or his actions of that morning. Amidst the stirrings of arousal, something else suddenly occurred to the dark wizard, excitement, disbelief and a little irritation bubbled in his body, had this beautiful, clever young woman manipulated him? What he had enjoyed over the last few hours quashed the tremor of irritation, although not entirely, had he actually been played by this slip of a girl?

“No” He finally admitted, answering her question with a single concise word.

But Lucius once more found the desire to be honest with her totally overwhelming.

“Already you know me better than most Hermione, that my pride would not have allowed me to renounce my words or my actions that day.” He paused briefly. “But I think you already knew that.”

In the steam filled room, engulfed in sweet scented air, the surrealty of the situation continued, increasing as each second passed.

They may have just shared some very intimate moments, they may both be devoid of clothing, in a tub of hot, bubble laden water, but Lucius still had the sheer power to intimidate her. It was a small confined space as it was, but his wet, naked presence shrank it still further. Even in a prone position, in a bath, she still felt her knees tremble and her heart race.

Hermione’s brain was split once more, only this time it was divided between the personal and the even more personal. She couldn’t possibly contemplate the professional and keep her sanity.  She knew exactly what Lucius was eluding to and it appeared the former Death Eater knew her only too well also. Transfixed by his flaxen hair which drifted on the hot water betwixt the scented foam, she almost wistfully toyed with its silky length, avoiding looking in to the mesmerising depths of his eyes.

“It would appear that you also know me all too well.” She finally gave in to the pull of the gaze she knew was fixed upon her.

“Fighting you, arguing with you that day would have been futile, but I wasn’t going to allow you to give up that easily, nor was I going to allow you to push me away that easily.” An all too familiar dark blonde brow quirked at her response.

“Even from the little I knew about you, I was certain, that you would not go back on anything you had said, but ……...”. Her body was distracted by Lucius, her brain struggling to find the right words.

“But I didn’t want that to be it.” She was going to add between us, but thought better of it, feeling it might put too much of an emphasis on whatever their _relationship_ actually was.

“I had to find a way of getting you to talk to me, to see me, without you thinking you had gone back on anything. I’m sorry that I was not entirely honest you, but that Malfoy pride of yours left me with little choice.”

She did hate that she had deceived Lucius, that in some ways she still was. but with each little bit that she revealed to him, she felt more and more as if she were getting closer to telling him the absolute truth, without doing precisely that.  The pain that she had seen in the face that rested against her chest, was now replaced with very different emotions, the eyes that had narrowed and darkened with suspicion were now lit brightly with delight.  His voice once more taking on that darkly menacing but sultry tone.

“I am flattered Hermione that you would go to such lengths.”

Tugging a little more harshly at a floating strand, Hermione spoke quietly but honestly.

“You were worth it.” Even in the hot water, Hermione felt that familiar flush creep through her body at her candid revelation.

“And I didn’t think an owl suggesting we should talk, would have worked with you. I needed to be a little more devious” She offered him a crooked little smile.

“Perhaps enlisting the help of the Minister of Magic was going a little too far.”

“I see a very Slytherin side to the Gryffindor Princess, it suits you.” Lucius grey eyes twinkled at her rather shocked warm brown. “Perhaps I am a bad influence after all.”

“And I see a very sexy side to the arrogant pureblood, it suits you.” The words were out before she could stop them. “Perhaps it is I that is the bad influence.”

However unbelievable it might seem, Lucius enjoyed the influence she had on him all around. Even revealing his innermost fears, the torments he had suffered at the hands of others and whilst suffering the most hideous of nightmares, she never demeaned him in any way. She allowed him to be himself in every way, Lucius Malfoy had never felt more of man.

 


	59. Take These Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picking up right where we left off, I hope you enjoy this rather naughty little chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks for comments and kudos and for you support of this story. I hope you continue to enjoy it .....

 

As his body, quite remarkably, hardened once more in unconcealed arousal, this really wasn’t the time to be thinking about anything but the pleasure coursing through his veins and the beautiful willing young woman beneath him. But so much was happening, had happened to Lucius Malfoy since Hermione Granger had re-entered his life, it was difficult not to.

Not only had she opened up a whole new world to him, a surfeit of new experiences both mental and physical, but whether it was just his imagination or not she seemed to be making his old world a lot easier to deal with. Perhaps it was quite simply a combination of the two. The ever-present darkness that lingered within Lucius reminded him that his own pleasure usually came at a cost, especially it seemed, when it came to Hermione.  Their first heated night of passion had been cruelly curtailed the following morning by the article in the Daily Prophet, a piercing and painful reminder of his past, and of his wife. Earlier today, Merlin’s teeth! Was it really only earlier today? So much had transpired it felt like days had gone by. Had Hermione only arrived at the Manor yesterday?  Earlier today, their almost teenage like coupling on the floor had been immediately followed by Draco’s untimely return, bringing yet another sharp and hurtful reminder of his past and indeed of his wife.

As more pleasure diluted his senses and pulsated in his veins, Lucius wasn’t sure he cared what the cost for this afternoon’s insurmountable delights would be. For the way, he felt now, and for the ecstasy that had raged through his body for the last, however long it was, it seemed like a small price to pay.

Was this really the pleasure he had denied himself that Sunday morning and because of what? Some cruel and vindictive lies, printed by a scandalous rag and written by a poisonous, bitter woman. Lucius was no saint, his past was more chequered than most, his sins greater than many, but for the first time in longer than he could remember, Lucius actually found himself holding someone else accountable, oh he had certainly wanted to inflict all manner of dark unspeakable magic on Rita Skeeter, part of him he still did. But now he solely blamed her and her scurrilous words, he no longer carried the entire burden upon himself, lies or not.  A tiny joyous frisson of peace drifted alongside the burning arousal that fired his body.

Not since he was in his twenties, maybe even his teens, had Lucius Malfoy indulged in so much sex in such a short space of time; a few short weeks ago, he had only imagined what he might like to do to the delectable Miss Granger, chastising himself both mentally and physically for such ridiculous and fanciful notions. After the fantasies, had come the painful reality, fearing what his body was still capable of, of what his mind would allow. Groundless worries perhaps? No, Lucius took nothing for granted, fully aware that these days, both his mind and his body could be unpredictable, that crippling fear and dark uncertainty could strike him at any moment. However fanciful those notions had been, whatever private fantasies he had enjoyed, never in his wildest dreams had Lucius Malfoy envisaged them becoming the reality that writhed responsively beneath him now. 

Even those fast relatively carefree sexual encounters as a young man, had been nothing like this. Driven by such desire, such need and such uninhibited passion. His powerful reactions to Hermione had always scared him, he had admitted as much to her, but now his desire and his passion for her scared him in a very different way, but in equal measure. He savoured every moment, every new experience she shared with him, gave to him. What exactly terrified him so much about that passion and that desire now, he really wasn’t entirely sure. That perhaps in some way this really was wrong? Or that ever-present dread, that he did not deserve such pleasure or that he should derive it from this young woman of all people, but deep down he knew those weren’t the answers.

“Mmmm”. Her eyes had fluttered shut, her head rested against the soft transfigured rim of the tub, her skin was gently flushed from the warmth in the room, her loosely tethered hair, fell wildly in all sorts of directions, Lucius smiled. His mind still assailed by all manner of thoughts, but for once they weren’t bleak and they did not fill the dark wizard with attenuating terror.  Instead they ran in perfect unison with the swelling desires of his flesh.

His hard body moved against the softness of hers, through the hot scented water, he could feel her body responding to him, just as it had done that very first night, without fear, without reproach and with a spontaneous almost wanton passion. Until that first time with Hermione, Lucius had always been the one in total control, sex had been something the man initiated, that was how it was meant to be, and what he had been brought up to believe. Until this moment, one way or another Hermione had been very much in control, she had initiated the sex between them, and whatever was meant to be, whatever his upbringing, Lucius had relished every erotic moment of it.

Never once had she made him feel embarrassed, well perhaps just a little, if he was being perfectly honest, her forthright and liberated attitude towards sex was a little shocking to a man of his background, but it was also as refreshing as it was incredibly arousing in its own right. Never once had she made him feel uncomfortable, her own self-confidence seeming only to empower him, prompting him to do things he would never have done before, but making him feel that he could, and that it was perfectly acceptable, dare he use the word, normal. But never once had she emasculated him in any way, not in her words, not in her actions.

Again, Lucius found his mind wandering that somewhat inopportune path, thinking so deeply when his body was so aroused, it was almost as if he were being forced to think, forced to understand these things, he seemed incapable of separating the two, perhaps they simply weren’t meant to be disconnected. These thoughts had drifted into his mind before, and not in a dissimilar situation, now they came to him with a lot more lucidity and a lot more strength. Not for the first time, strange as it might seem, for a not unattractive man of his age and his experience in life, Lucius found himself in a position he could never recall being in before. He wanted to please Hermione, no that wasn’t it, he wanted to pleasure her. It reiterated to him once more, that until Hermione, sex for him, had just been that. Of course he’d had needs, and that had been what it was about, his needs. He was not however a totally selfish lover; he didn’t think he had ever left his partner unsatisfied. But, for a Malfoy man, even a young man, sex was very much about living up to expectations and about duty, that in itself took a certain edge of the spontaneous enjoyment. After he married, there was the relentless pressure to ensure that there was an heir. Although he loved his son dearly now, when Draco had been born, Lucius had seen him as merely securing the line.  Even after the line of succession was assured, sex, like everything else for Lucius Malfoy was conditioned and had become about doing what was expected of him, even as a husband. He had married young, and Narcissa had never been demanding in that respect, she too borne of old values. Lucius did what was expected, no more, no less, he satisfied his own needs with a woman brought up to provide simply that for her husband.  

Lucius Malfoy all at once became very aware of the fact, the chains that had both restrained and constrained him in Azkaban were not the only ones that he wore, although in a very different way. These he had worn for what felt like most of his life, shackled by one person and then another. By one thing and then another, imprisoned by numerous things, many of his own making.  In her own, very different way, Hermione Granger had opened his eyes, his mind and his body to that fact. This highly intelligent young woman understood this all too well, because of her work maybe, or simply because she was Hermione Granger, the dark wizard was unsure, he wasn’t sure he even cared what the reason was, but one thing he was certain of, she had become aware of them very quickly. In her own very different way she was slowly releasing him from those heavy chains.

Her soft body moved sensually beneath him, soft sounds of pleasure emanating from her at his every move. Hermione was so very different from anything; anyone he had ever known. On a sexual level alone, something Lucius had given little thought to in the past. She openly enjoyed him, she delighted in his body and was more than happy to freely express that enjoyment. Even he could see, she clearly relished what she could do to him, the reactions she could provoke, none of it was borne out of a sense of duty, but clear unadulterated pleasure, for both of them. 

That this beautiful, caring young witch would want to have anything to do with him, let alone do any of the things she had, sexual or otherwise, still astounded Lucius, but as she writhed her delectable body against his, Lucius undeniably found himself wanting to pleasure her. A woman that would have once reviled his pureblood lineage, a woman whose opinion he would have mocked, whose mere presence he would have avoided at any cost, now soothed his mind, eased his pain and made his body practically sing. Whatever magic had brought this woman back into his life, allowed her into his bed, made her want him in this way, Lucius Malfoy was inordinately grateful.

 

An intrigued Lucius Malfoy wanted to see what he could do to her, see what reactions he could provoke, purely as a man, his name, his heritage, his breeding, they meant nothing to Hermione, and right now they meant nothing to him. The tiny, joyous frisson of peace expanded yet further into his very soul, drifting gloriously alongside that burning arousal that pressed against her and heated his blood.

Even the warm transparency of the water, the light zesty scented foam of the bubbles was too much of a barrier for Lucius. He wanted to feel Hermione’s gossamer like skin against his own, but he was not inclined to move or break the connection between them. Raising a soapy hand, he traced an unhurried path from just below Hermione’s ear, creeping down her neck and along the length of her arm to her wrist. A soft but roguish smile curved his mouth, it wasn’t difficult to focus his thoughts on the soft bed in the next room, where the sharp pull of apparition deposited them seconds later.

The proximity and solidness of Lucius body had kept Hermione flush to him, and that was precisely how they had landed. His strong formidable frame, pinning her into the luxurious bedding, her face was charmingly flushed from the sudden and forcible movement, her head swimming just a little bit, her expressive brown eyes, wide with surprise. For once Hermione had no idea what was going on in Lucius’ head, but from the lustful twinkling in his own grey eyes and their sudden apparition, she sensed it was all good. Once upon a time giving a man like Lucius Malfoy free reign would have been considered a rather fool hardy and dangerous thing to do, perhaps it still was but excitement trumped fool hardy and danger was not always a bad thing.

He noticed her mouth lift with a slow indulgent smile and those same expressive eyes flicker with a catlike intensity. For the first time Lucius really savoured her lips beneath his own; she had kissed him briefly this afternoon, when they had been in the kitchen, it had been an almost throw away gesture, an instinctive one. It had stirred a very odd reaction in him, the strangest of which being derived from the ease with which she bestowed it, with no premeditation or thought, or even for that matter, any reason, she had just brushed those excruciatingly soft lips to his, his entire body had woken to their briefest of touches.  His mouth now drifted hedonistically over hers, seizing her lips with his own, feeling them and her react to his languorous exploration. His tongue licked her lips, just as you would something so tantalisingly sweet, tracing their slightly parted seam, they separated yet further to his touch, giving him access to more honeyed delights beyond. In the warm moistness of her mouth, his probing tongue went on its own voyage of discovery, feeling its way slowly around leaving no part unexplored, until finally it touched hers. A powerful, erotic sensation struck Lucius low in his belly as she stroked his marauding tongue with her own and they became entwined in a salacious duel which left them both breathless and gasping for air. Her pert breasts heaving against the solid wall of his chest, left Lucius wanting more than just to feel the hardened peaks against him. 

The tongue that had delved so quickly and curiously into her mouth, meandered slowly but with equal curiosity, down Hermione’s neck, the scent from the bath essence tickling his taste buds, the scent of her tormenting his cock. She arched her body as he moved lower, his own body adjusting to the myriad of sensations that flooded it as he came into contact the various parts of her. The ridiculously blissful feel of her knee against his groin, her full breasts against his midriff, breasts his mouth now eagerly moved towards.  His hands were not as patient as his mouth, coming to caress the soft globes, feeling Hermione’s slender body press against his as he cupped the silky flesh in his large hands.

Brushing the puckered flesh of the already hardened nipple with his thumb, her knee pressed firmer against the throbbing need between his legs. He couldn’t withhold the hiss of delight that escaped his lips, Hermione letting out her own groan of pleasure as his lips took one of the aching peaks between them.

There was no trace of uncertainty this time, either in his actions or in the face now suckling at her breast, the sight alone sending a fresh wave of arousal through Hermione. This time there was an unhurried, virtually tender sureness in his touch, a deliberate, capable caress that would leave no angry marks to torture him later. She sensed something different in the dark wizard, but as his mouth continued to feast upon one breast and his hand sustained its heavenly assault on the other, she couldn’t even begin to think coherently about it. For the first time Hermione didn’t even contemplate the professional implications, it was something else that would require coherent thought. All she could think about was this man and what he was doing to her, nothing that wasn’t connected to his mouth, to his fingers, to the glorious feel of his body mattered. As his teeth grazed the nipple which throbbed between them, any semblance of coherent thought vanished without a trace. Hermione willingly surrendered herself to his delicious mercy.

“Argh, mmmmm”

It was not an agonised groan which reached Lucius ears, but a sound of pure gratification. Had he not have been able to distinguish between the two, the throbbing bud which swelled yet further against his tongue, and the sharp thrust of her body against his, would have given her away, as indeed would the slender fingers which knotted tightly into his still wet hair.

Lucius pulled back slightly, allowing her nipple to pop from between his lips, a small groan of disappointment slipped from the young witch, sending a devilish wave of self-satisfaction through Lucius. The hard, rosy peak was wet with his saliva and he blew gently on it, watching as the darkened flesh, puckered and tightened still further, he bent his head once more, his hair falling across her chest. Hermione’s body arcing yet further into him.  He sucked hard on the sensitised flesh which once more filled his mouth, his tongue flicking back and forth, after a little while he switched his attentions to the other breast, devouring it in the same way, as his fingers toyed with the other.

A string of whimpers and gasps slipped from between her lips, each little sound arousing him further, but none more so than the breathy, imploring moan of his name. The word like an enchantment, some delectably wicked spell. Almost as if she had whispered imperio, every time his name fell from her lips, Lucius would have done just about anything she asked. 

“Oh Lu….ci….us.”

The tiny exclamation and his given name reached his ears in the guise of a soft longing sigh. The sound caressing him like no touch could.

His lips moved over her soft skin, leaving the swollen rosy tipped nipples bereft at the loss of contact. Hermione’s body rose from the bed, desperately craving his touch once more. She felt it.

His warm open mouth moved between the valley of her breasts, to the flat plane of her stomach, the zesty scent of spiced oranges wafted to his nostrils, they flared, and his cock twitched painfully as the piquant fragrance was replaced by the overwhelming musky scent of her, of her reaction to him.  Like a man starved of food, a man deprived of water, Lucius wanted to feast upon her, he wanted to quench his thirst.  That desire, that need, that uninhibited passion he felt towards Hermione, was dragging him down, but in the best possible way, pulling him towards the warm heat which had caressed him, which had spilled upon him, now he wanted to lose himself in it in a very different way.  Ever part of his body tingled and pulsed with anticipation as his mouth moved ever closer.

Hermione’s fingers tightened in his hair, Merlin’s teeth, the man was torturing her, all be it blissfully so.  His mouth, his fingers, his hard body they all felt sinfully good, with every lick, every touch, every movement, each one gentle yet firm, each one becoming a little more assured than the last. Even that little part of Hermione’s brain which thought with logic and clarity was all but stupefied, clouded by desire and heady sensations, which she truly hadn’t expected. As his blonde head glided over her highly sensitised skin, Hermione abandoned herself quite literally to Lucius Malfoy, not wanting to visibly guide or encourage him, her body was doing that on its own.

As if her were savouring a fine wine, Lucius inhaled deeply, relishing the sweet damp scent of her, he was torn. Insane curiosity and male instinct, heated arousal and need ripped his mind and his body in two. A small mass of damp curls brushed against his chin, Hermione’s heady scent of need for him filled his nostrils and invaded every one of his senses. Her sweet body lifted to meet that first tentative lash of his tongue and Lucius surrendered to insane curiosity and male instinct, the honey sweet taste of her was like nothing he had ever experienced.

Through the foggy haze of arousal, shock rushed headlong into Hermione’s veins, not at the action itself, it was a typically male thing after all, but that Lucius would want to……. that it was something…. her thoughts clouded once more ecstasy as his tongue swept over her weeping heat, more slowly this time.  A barely coherent, talk about all or nothing drifted across her mind, she didn’t care, right now she was more than happy with the, all. 

His long hair had dried in the warmth of the room, it cast a satiny sheet across her lower body, tickling her limbs, again she was drawn to its silky length, this time her fingers stroking gently as her stroked her, with what was proving to be an exquisitely skilled tongue. For a moment through her veiled lashes she watched, trying desperately to absorb what was happening, what she was allowing to happen, but the only thing both her mind and her body were capable of absorbing was pleasure, her eyes fluttering shut once more as she felt his fingers smoothing over her inner thighs.

Lucius revelled in all of her reactions to him, was astounded by most of them, but this was sublime, it was beyond words, it was beyond intimate. He was losing himself in her body, but in a very different way. Her long legs moved, spreading them wider as his tongue moved over her wet lips, allowing him to slip inside her. Natural instinct guided him, as did the tightening of her fingers in his hair, her increasingly strained breathing and the rush of moisture which coated his tongue. His own body throbbed violently at the sensation, at her scent. A small foot had connected with his groin and he pushed himself hard against it, Hermione’s toes managed to brushed the tip of his desperately wet cock and he moaned against her feminine heat, the vibration clearly pleasuring her more as she thrust against his mouth.   

With his own mounting arousal, his mouth moved with more surety and firmness, the delicate, teasing licks becoming more forceful as he laved his tongue harder against the swollen bundle of nerves beneath it. Her gentle mewing and soft moans became louder and louder. Her hips rose from the bed and she jerked and ground herself against his strumming mouth and darting tongue. Her foot moved hard against his cock, catching him in a such a gloriously erotic spot, Lucius feared he might just come all over it, he shifted quickly. Sucking hard on her flesh, he pulled that swollen nub of nerves deep into his mouth, she stilled against him, Lucius twirled his tongue harshly and quickly around it.  His name was torn from her lips in a beautiful scream of utter pleasure as her body thrashed wildy against him, his face buried against the wet heat of her, his tongue so deep inside her, tasting her desire for him over and over.  She called out his name again…followed by a wanton appeal.

“Lucius…...please……”

For a split second the dark wizard was thrown, comprehension quickly dawned and in one sharp fluid movement, he was inside her, Lucius groaned in absolute pleasure. Her inner walls still fluttered with the small tremors of her orgasm, that and her slick heat were almost his immediate undoing, his almost painful erection now crying out for release, it took every bit of willpower he possessed not to come. Stilling his own body and pinning hers so she was unable to move, her arms grasped tightly as he held them firmly above her head, as the moment passed he slowly began to move, gentle shallow thrusts. Her long legs rose, wrapping themselves around him, allowing him to push deeper and deeper into her, grunting in satisfaction his strokes became more forceful.

After his mouth and the powerful climax it had driven her too, Hermione surely shouldn’t have felt as aroused as she did, but his shaft buried so deep inside her in the wake of it, just drove her straight back up again. Her pleasure building once more as she felt him surge and grow inside her. Her muscles contracted tightly around him, gripping him, she revelled in the sounds which now came freely from him, a guttural joyous cry which tore from his throat. As his pace quickened, Hermione felt his                                    breathing and his movements become more erratic. The sheer pleasure of his body against her, in her sent Hermione flying over the edge once more.

Whether it was his name, once more falling from her beautiful gasping mouth, or her walls gripping and pulsating around him Lucius had no idea what pushed him off the precipice, he really didn’t care, his orgasm coming in long hot spurts, his release unremitting as it wracked his taut body. With one last burst and a powerful surge he stilled against her, breathlessly collapsing against her soft welcoming embrace.  The feeling of her closeness and her acceptance as overwhelming and joyous as anything else. Through the pleasured moans of ecstasy and the heady scent of sex, Lucius heard the loosening rattle of chains and smelt the intoxicating aroma of freedom.

It was a short time before Lucius rolled off her, his breathing still slightly laboured from their exertions. Hermione leaned over him, like before, it was an instinctive gesture, as was the stroking of his hair from his flushed face and the soft kiss she placed on his lips, tasting her own pleasure on them, Hermione found herself gazing deeply into the dark wizard’s glittering grey eyes. She saw so much reflected in their luminous, silver blue depths, but she said nothing and neither did Lucius, the dimly lit room remained shrouded in peaceful easy silence. There would be time enough for talking.

Lucius shifted on her bed, Hermione felt certain he was about to get up, return to his own room, she felt oddly disconcerted and saddened at the thought. Instead with a brief utterance the bedding drifted over them, and Lucius Malfoy wrapped his strong arms around the young witch, pulling her close so she lay in his embrace. Hermione would have thought more about the gesture, its connotations, had her eyelids not begun to feel very heavy. Her brain totally focused on his solid warm chest and the heart that beat steadily beneath her ear, drawing her towards sleep.


	60. The Price of Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So is there a price of pleasure or is Lucius just imagining things......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My grateful thanks as always for Kudos, comments and support for this story. Apologies for any faux pas

 

Lucius was in limbo, on the precipice, hovering somewhere between blissful sleep and unwanted wakefulness, in that state he often found himself in, shrouded in fear, that awake he would find himself surrounded by the cold grey walls of Azkaban. This morning as well as the expensive cotton bedding against his skin, Lucius could also feel the warm flesh of another person, that same fear kept his eyes tightly closed, not wanting anything to vanish with emergence of daylight. Even though his body still tingled from the exertions of the previous day, ached and was even a little tender in places, he hoped that those aches and that tenderness were borne of the sweet memories that raced around in his brain and were not just dreams, gone as soon as his eyes cracked open to the morning. The contented sigh and slender foot which rested gently against his calf assured him this would not be the case.

As well as the gentle breathing sounds which reached his ears, Lucius could hear an unusual rattling sound, his eyes remained closed, not willing to relinquish the pretence of sleep just yet, but his brain became much more awake. The rattling sound grew louder and reluctantly the dark wizard opened his eyes, thankfully to a room within Malfoy Manor if not his own bedroom.  The warm slumbering shape beside him which extended from the soft foot, was indeed delightfully real.

For a moment or two, Lucius studied the sleeping form of Hermione Granger. The actuality still almost impossible to absorb. His unusually clear and peaceful mind, still struggled to believe that this was in fact a reality in any form. He had been shocked enough that Hermione had accepted his invitation to dinner, actually he had been surprised way before that. When she had been so polite and amenable to him at the Ministry event, admittedly she was on what some might refer to as, company time, but she would have still been justified had she been offhand or frosty towards him. The fact she was at this moment sleeping at his side, defied even his comprehension. She was young, she was beautiful, she was intelligent and she was incredibly sexy. Those things alone were enough for Lucius to wonder what she was doing in the bed of a man twice her age, the father of a boy she had been at school with, but with everything else added to the potion, he truly didn’t deserve her to be here.

Not so very long ago his own stupid prejudices and bigotry would have prevented it, be reviled by even the thought of it, her sheer presence even, offending every part of his pureblood ancestry. A filthy little Mudblood sullying the bed of a Malfoy, his stomach churned at the hateful words he had once used all too easily. But now his body stirred involuntarily at the mere sight of her. Her brown hair was a mass of wildness, spread about her beautiful face and strewn across the stark whiteness of the pillow. Her lips were slightly parted, and that small contented sigh had left a seemingly satisfied smile lifting them gently. The insatiable urge he had to touch his own to them was overshadowed by the incessant and intensely irritating rattling noise, which grew ever louder. Lucius cast his still somewhat bleary and decidedly annoyed eyes around her room.

It was light, he had no idea what the time was, the clock in the room obscured from his view. He caught sight of his wand, at some point yesterday, he must have left it resting against the small dressing table, in the bright light of day he saw the green eyes of the serpent head glitter. It was nothing unusual, the sun often caught the bejewelled head, the urgent vibrations though……... “Merlin’s teeth!” The dark wizard hissed, practically leaping from the bed.

Now he was fully awake! He sprang across the room, covering his nakedness with the clothes discarded from yesterday, tidying himself and using a quick cleansing charm, he grabbed the still vibrating ebony cane.

Lucius hadn’t given any thought to how this day might start, but as memories of yesterday continued to flash through his now racing mind, he was sure as Salazar this wasn’t how it should be. Loathed as he was, he pushed those blissful recollections from his thoughts. As he made his way down the stairs, Lucius once more realised that this was the price of pleasure.

 

The wards around Malfoy Manor were extremely powerful and quite extensive, they always had been. Ever since Armand’s time, his shady magical powers had guarded the house and the surrounding lands for centuries. Many of them were still in force now, tweaked and strengthened by Malfoys down the line, each inhabitant of the Manor adding and honing his own magical signature. Lucius was no exception, and since the second wizarding war and Narcissa’s departure they had never been stronger or more tightly honed. He had augmented them and changed them, ensuring that there were no unwelcome visitors to the Manor, whatever their last name might be.

The only other person able to come and go as freely as they pleased was Draco. But Lucius was no fool, he was more than well aware of how close his son was to his mother. It wasn’t that Lucius did not trust his son, it was that Lucius did not trust his wife, she was after all, born a Black.  It was with this mind, that Lucius had conjured up a special enchantment, which whilst allowing Narcissa to enter her former home, if of course accompanied by her son, or by some remote chance her husband, she would be unable to use any magic whilst on the premises.  Should she try and remove anything from the Manor, without prior consent or arrangement she would be prevented from leaving. Another ward that Lucius had put in place after his wife’s departure was one which simply alerted him to her presence.

Reaching the bottom of the large central staircase in the hallway, Lucius paused, he grasped his still, now almost violently shuddering cane and merely listened. The sound of two very familiar, if rather muffled, but decidedly raised voices, drifted to his ears. Anger flooded his veins and not just because of the unwelcome intrusion into his home, finding whatever plans he might have had for the day scuppered and his peace of mind shattered once more, was infinitely more infuriating.  He moved slowly and deliberately, but with an unnerving calmness, in the direction from whence the voices came, finding them becoming more discernible as he approached. His fury rose along with the fine downy hairs on the back of his neck. Lucius’ long fingers curled tighter around the cold head of his cane, the vibration tingling up the length of his arm.

Lucius liked to think of himself as a fit man, but this morning he moved with a little stiffness, not perhaps the stiffness he had hoped, the exertions of the previous day taking their toll on a body unaccustomed to such activities.  The disdainful smirk which lifted his lips gave way to a small rather indulgent smile, as again despite his rising temper, Lucius found images of Hermione floating through his mind, memories of their shared intimacy stirring his body. The peculiar thing was, with these images, these memories, he found his temper decidedly quelled.

With a swift and sharp raise of his free hand the door to the library all but flew open, revealing its two occupants who immediately ceased talking, an ominous silence befalling the room. Lucius cold grey eyes narrowed taking in the scene before him.

Draco all but jumped as his father’s imposing presence, his blue eyes darting like a dragon caught by the tail, finally they fell beseechingly on his father.  The younger Malfoy might not have known his father as well as he should, but he was only too aware that, silent, restrained anger was a lot worse than quick outward displays. Those tell-tale signs terrified the younger blonde; he saw his father’s stormy grey eyes narrow suspiciously as a frown creased his pale brow, his nostrils flared visibly and his knuckles whitened around the hilt of his cane, the eyes of which seemed to glitter with more menace than his father’s.  Draco swallowed hard, sweat dampening his brow and his palms, his heart was beating frantically and those same damp hands were tightly clenched, but in fear, not anger. 

His father was going to hex him, there was no doubt about that and worse still, Granger was probably going to kill him. He had screwed up _again_ , this time on a monumental scale, even if it had been with the best of intentions, he was sure neither his father or Granger were going to see it that way. This was something even his smart, bloody brightest witch of her age, friend was not going to be able to fix. Right now Draco Malfoy would rather be facing half a dozen trolls and a handful of horntails.

“Narcissa”

His mother’s given name was delivered in emotionless, disparaging tones by his father.  The young wizard’s blood ran a little colder. He had tried to tell his mother that this was not a good idea, without going into specifics, he had reasoned, that in his current frame of mind, Lucius was hardly in the mood for company and her presence would not be welcomed. The smarter thing to have done would have been to have keep quiet in the first place, not to have told his mother about his cross words exchanged with his father, or about his reaction to her request for a divorce. But as always with Draco, hindsight was a wonderful thing. His thinking in a situation coming way too late to do any good, long after the damage had already been done. Spells, he was beginning to realise, all be it a little too late, could more often than not be undone or countered in some way. Words on the other hand, once said could not be unsaid.

 

 

Hermione was torn, as had been the case recently her mind was split in two, just as it had been many times over the last few weeks, since Lucius Malfoy has sauntered arrogantly and elegantly back into her life.

Waking a couple of hours earlier, _her_ bedroom had still been steeped in darkness, the clear night sky allowing the now waning moon to illuminate the room. The solid, sleeping form of the dark wizard beside her, had split her mind completely in half once more. The woman, clearly at odds with the consummate professional. Two halves of your brain arguing with itself somewhere before dawn was really not how anyone’s day should start, especially after the blissful ecstasy of yesterday. There it was again, the other half always ready with the voice of clarity and reason, and quite often disapproval. It wasn’t only reason and disapproval she found herself arguing with, it was disbelief and trying to justify her own actions, to herself.

Hermione tried to switch off her brain, allowing the woman to remain in control just until daylight lit the room, enjoying the afterglow of what had transpired yesterday, but it appeared her own brain was spoiling for a fight and was even, still half asleep, determined to remind her why she was here, amongst other things.

Her eyes opened, oh so slightly, from the soft even sounds emanating from the warm body next to her, Lucius was still sleeping soundly, as her eyes opened more fully and accustomed to the moonlit room, she could see he was. The thought in itself as ridiculous and totally incomprehensible as the reality. She was at Malfoy Manor, a place that had once filled her with fear and dread, she was sleeping in the same bed as the master of the house, a man who was once her enemy, a man she had loathed.

Having shared all manner of wicked, deliciously so, delights. It was bad enough, that the usually, sometimes boringly sensible Hermione Granger had jumped into bed with a man she hardly knew, a much older man that she hardly knew, but that it was, of all people, former Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, her sensibilities were shocked and horrified, but her body was thrilled and sinfully satisfied. This wasn’t Hermione at all, but somewhere after becoming reacquainted with this man, somewhere very soon after becoming reacquainted with this man, some extraordinarily powerful feelings had taken over those sensibilities, and unlike Hermione she had succumbed to them very quickly and without her usual careful thought. She had to admit, in the quiet darkness, she had wondered if perhaps the dark wizard had placed her under a charm of some sort, but instinct and his own reactions and confessions to her, convinced the young witch that this wasn’t the case.

Right from their very first meeting, and she meant from their _very_ first meeting, something had drawn her to Lucius Malfoy’s darkness, something intrigued her about Draco’s father, she feared him and in the same breath was fascinated by him. All these years later, nothing had changed, except of course him.

Hermione wanted to remain professional, but those inexplicably powerful feelings she had towards Lucius Malfoy overshadowed that, and led her quickly down a very unprofessional path. She had warned herself all along the very personal bond she was forming with him was not a good idea, for so many reasons, that they would cloud her judgement and muddy the waters were two good places to start.  Becoming as involved as she had, would not help him, no matter how much she tried to justify her actions. She should have known better; she should not have allowed it to happen. Hermione should have been stronger, instead of allowing it to happen over and over, she should have put a stop to it, taken the higher ground and done as she had promised Draco.  But if Draco hadn’t asked for her help, she again tried to reason with the argumentative side of her brain, if Draco hadn’t asked for her help professionally and she just accepted his father’s invitation to dinner how would things have panned out then? …. But he did ask for your help, she was once more reminded. Her eyes felt heavy and tired again, her brain almost hurt with the constant conflict.

Slightly disturbed, who knew, how much later, by Lucius practically springing from the bed and an odd rattling sound, which vanished along with the dark wizard, Hermione was once again left alone with her thoughts and her fragmented, fighting mind.

She had kept her eyes tightly closed on the pretext of sleep, knowing full well the sight of a naked, dishevelled Lucius Malfoy, would do nothing for her torn thoughts and unbalanced equilibrium. She also had no clue how his own slightly fragile mind, would this morning react to what they had shared and this somewhat _domestic_ state they found themselves in.  She really should have known better, his brittle state of mind alone, should have guided her in a very different direction. Hermione now really did doubt that any of this had helped Lucius Malfoy in any way, she could even have made things worse. She groaned into the silence of the empty room, anger and guilt at her stupid and unprofessional behaviour suffusing her veins. She curled shamefully into a foetal ball, her somewhat tender and aching body throbbed and tingled at the exertions of the previous day, warmth and pleasure at her uninhibited and decidedly female behaviour suffusing her veins. And thus the divide continued.

Somewhat disappointingly hearing the door close quietly behind Lucius, Hermione opened her eyes, to the empty, light room. The fact he had all but leapt from the bed and left her room so quickly, spoke volumes, serving only to remind Hermione of her poor judgement.  She chastised herself bitterly once more, for allowing herself to get so carried away, for not thinking with her usual absolute clarity and for being so uncharacteristically unprofessional and unHermione.  She had to get _this,_ whatever this had turned into, back onto the right footing, either that or she had to leave Malfoy Manor. She had truly wanted to help Draco and his father, she still did, but this was not the way to do it. Of course the _relationship_ she had developed with Lucius had allowed her to do precisely that, but she had also deceived him, not something she was proud of and not something she had ever intended to do. There had been no deception in what she had done with him, what she had wanted to do, nor had there been any deception in the way she felt, the deception had come in the route she had taken to get there, and that stung.

Wanting to clear the air, and perhaps her conscience, Hermione too sprang from the bed. Needing to strike whilst the iron was hot, and before she lost her nerve, she too used a cleansing and tidying charm. Putting on her discarded clothes from the day before, she neatly secured her unruly hair and left the room, quietly padding down the stairs.

Reaching the bottom of the large central staircase in the hallway, Hermione paused, taking a very long a deep breath. The sound of two very familiar, if rather muffled, but decidedly raised voices reached her ears. Trepidation flooded her veins, Draco was back; this would not make things any easier. That he and his father were already embroiled in a heated conversation wasn’t exactly conducive either.  She had hoped that when he did return once more from his mother’s he would be a little more tactful with his father, possibly think before he spoke, but as their voices continued at the slightly raised level, she had a feeling this wasn’t the case. Whatever news Draco brought from his mother, from the heated conversation, it appeared that Lucius was far from happy.  This time she wasn’t in the room, she could hardly go barging in, and interfere in a private, if somewhat loud conversation between father and son. This really was out of her hands and her purview, her only option at this moment in time, was a cup of tea in what was Narcissa sitting room. 

The delicate china cup clasped firmly in her hand, Hermione slipped into the light airy room and into her favourite chair, in the sunshine, the spring flowers looked beautiful, Hermione could almost smell the heady fragrances of the hyacinth and the narcissi, their heads dipping gently in what was clearly a fresh spring breeze. In the quiet tranquillity of the room she sipped the hot tea, trying to clear her head, or at least get it to think as one, once more.

She almost dropped the delicate china cup as the door to the sitting room flew open. Draco all but jumping at the action, his blue eyes darting once more like a dragon caught by the tail, they finally fell fearfully on Hermione. The younger Malfoy was well out of his depth now, this was a situation he hadn’t foreseen not in a million years and one that he should off prevented from ever happening. Again this was his fault, he swallowed even harder than before, this was something he had no idea how it would pan out. Sweat once more dampened his brow, this time spreading to his top lip, his shirt and his palms, Draco Malfoy was in a muck sweat. His damp hands were so tightly clenched his knuckles were snow white, his blunt nails bit into the soft flesh of his palms.

He was sure he had narrowly escaped his father hexing him, now he had walked straight into the dragon’s den, Hermione with more reason than ever to kill him. His screw up just became even more monumental, whatever his intentions had been, and this certainly hadn’t been one of them. Merlin’s teeth he was in hippogriff shit now, this wasn’t going to end well on any level. Right now Draco Malfoy would rather be facing a dozen trolls and two handfuls of horntails.  His fearful wide blue eyes remained fixedly on Hermione. She rose from her seat, placing the cup she held on the small highly polished table at her side. Her eyes met his before falling on the person who had propelled the door open with such ferocity.

“Mrs Malfoy”.

Hermione’s address of his mother was surprised, but quiet and respectful, there wasn’t a trace of fear in either her tone or her demeanour. He had however known Hermione Granger long enough to detect the undertones of anger and cynicism in her voice, Merlin alone knew he had been on the receiving end of it often enough.

He also knew only too well the look on his mother’s face, it was a look as a child he had never wanted to cross or argue with. The blood in his veins fell to below freezing. He had told his mother that now was not a good time to visit his father, that he was not in the mood for company, and yet here was a once sworn enemy sitting in what was once her sitting room, comfortably sipping tea. Make that two dozen trolls and four handfuls of horntails. Right at this moment Draco Malfoy hoped Hermione Granger might actually kill him.  If he survived today, and right now it was looking like a very big if, he would always give long and careful consideration to any future words or deeds. 

 


	61. Two Formidable Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Hermione and Narcissa come face to face at Malfoy Manor ...........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My continued thanks for Kudos and comments. As ever my apologies for those annoying little errors in whatever guises they might take, be they grammatical or lost in translation. I sincerely hope that they do not detract from the story/

 

“Miss Granger!”

His mother’s voice was as icy and disparaging as his father’s had been, if not more so. Although his mother’s was also laced with surprise, not only at finding the young witch in her former home, but also quite comfortable in what was her sitting room, no doubt.

Well this certainly wasn’t how Hermione had envisaged her day starting out. As she had left her bedroom here at the manor and descended the stairs, she had imagined her conversation with Lucius could be a little confrontational, she had however, not for one moment expected any hostility to be with another member of the Malfoy family, least of all Narcissa. Her defiant stance, glitteringly angry eyes and, the way in which she addressed Hermione, assuring the surprised young witch, that was exactly what the former Mistress of the Manor had in mind.

Hermione’s brown eyes moved from the haughty, glacially elegant woman, now standing fully within the room, to the exceedingly anxious young man at her side. Draco’s ashen face was tinged with two spots of crimson, which blushed his high cheek bones. It was now all too clear to Hermione, what the raised voices between Draco and his father had been about, even if their words had been indistinguishable. His father! Hermione’s thoughts suddenly went from the two Malfoy’s before her, to the one conspicuous by his absence.  The younger witch, suddenly very concerned as to how Narcissa’s clearly unexpected arrival had affected her husband…. the very thought of the word causing Hermione to flush, knowing what she had done with this woman’s _husband_ and that moments before they had been in bed together.

It was Narcissa Malfoy’s cold and clear aristocratic tone that broke the uneasy silence which hung ominously in the air. Her voice, not surprisingly directed further at Hermione, but at her visibly uncomfortable son.

“So, Draco, your father is not in the mood for visitors.”  Her voice was calm and dripping with sarcasm as she continued to address her son.

“Is Miss Granger here staff, assisting the house elves perhaps?”

Draco fought to find his voice, his mouth was as dry as parchment, he was not entirely sure how to explain Hermione’s presence in the manor, let alone, so at home, in what was one of his mother’s rooms. He opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again, looking like some stranded fish. His pale blue eyes once more darting between the two very formidable, and far from happy, women.

Hermione could feel her temper and her hackles rising. This might well have been Narcissa Malfoy’s home, but it did not give her the right to be rude to a guest in the house, whomever it was.  She was certain however, had she been anyone else, the once Mistress of the Manor might have shown her a little more respect. Although, looking at that same disdainfully cold face, Hermione couldn’t be too sure about that.  Containing her own anger, the young witch decided to take the high ground and go above her head, she would not get into a slanging match or argument of any kind with the frosty, stern faced blonde. If she suffered the wrath of two Malfoys, then so be it.

“I could quite possibly come under the heading of staff Mrs Malfoy, my boss however is not your husband, but Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic and I am in your home at his behest.”

She didn’t add anything about Lucius’ invitation, that would only add fuel, to what she could see, was an already blazing fire. She however couldn’t fail to miss the look on Narcissa Malfoy’s face, her chosen words hitting their target dead centre. Her tight and strained features tightening yet further and becoming even more pinched. Her ramrod straight spine, stiffening still further, the tall, slim woman pulling herself up to yet further height.

“That would be **_former_** on both counts.”

Draco’s head spun around like a startled owl, rotating almost 360 degrees. His blue eyes just as wide as the feathered creature, his mouth this time, falling completely open, like a frightened baby’s beak.

Narcissa’s long blonde hair, whipped across her angry face, her head turned so sharply. Hermione for her part slowly, tilted her head, and raised her eyes towards the menacing voice which had drifted across the room. A room that like all others shrivelled under the imposing and threatening presence of Lucius Malfoy.

Even the morning at the Aurelia Imperial, Hermione had not seen Lucius look this angry and that had been fearful enough. This was a very different kind of rage, the fact that the source was in the room made it all the more chilling. Fear coursed through Hermione’s own veins, more for Lucius than for anything else.  She knew, he was a more than worthy adversary for anyone in the room, herself included, but how this situation would affect his already fragile balance, she had no idea. She had seen him angry with Draco, she had managed to placate that anger, but she would not dare to do so in front of his wife. Despite what Lucius said, whether he liked it or not, Narcissa Malfoy, may no longer be Mistress of Malfoy Manor, but she was still very much Mrs Malfoy. But just what was burning in the depths of those stormy grey eyes, what lingered in the white knuckles wrapped tightly around his cane, Merlin alone knew.

Like a large, sleek cat stalking its prey, Lucius moved fully into the room, with the same threatening grace, he moved passed the shocked figures of both his son and his wife, amidst the gentle and expensive rustle of fabric, he came to stand beside Hermione.

“Your status as my wife, at your own request will soon be at an end. As for your status in this house Narcissa, you are _just a visitor,_ an unwelcome and uninvited one at that. Miss Granger is neither, she was invited by _me_ and is here on Ministry of Magic business. **YOU** will therefore treat her with the respect that both she and the office she represents deserves, or you will leave this house immediately.”

The dark wizard did not pause for breath in his rhetoric, his eyes never once leaving the frozen face of his wife. An awkward silence once more engulfed the room. But Lucius was not done, nor was he satisfied with the abrupt nod of his wife’s blonde head.

“Is that clear Narcissa?” His voice was rasping and persistent, it brooked no room for argument, but demanded more of a response than the bob of a head.

Like Draco before, Hermione saw the faintest hint of colour flush Narcissa Malfoy’s pale, furious face. Just as with her son, her sharp cheekbones were stung by a violent crimson hue.  Hermione could see the words sticking in her throat, she stretched her long, almost swanlike neck to facilitate the effort to speak.  Her cold blue eyes fixed on her equally furious, but surprisingly calm husband.  Her strained clear voice finally drifted into the air.

“Perfectly.” The word was clipped, almost venomous and was coated with a thick layer of ice. Her eyes darted momentarily to Hermione, the hatred all but piercing the younger witch’s skin.

Hermione could now feel, rather than see the rage radiating from the man at her side. Her concern for him once again mounting. Amid that concern was a certain amount of annoyance of her own, mostly at Draco, that after their last conversation just over 24 hours ago, he would subject his father to yet more anguish. But as her eyes once again fell on the younger blonde, and then drifted back to his taciturn, livid mother, she doubted that the Malfoy matriarch had left him with any choice. The woman, as daunting in her own right as her husband. There was that word again, she recalled Lucius addendum to it…. “former”.

Yesterday in this very room, she had felt the heat and the passion emanating from Lucius’ body, she felt that same heat and that same passion now, the instigator this time however was rage. Unlike the previous morning, Hermione had wanted Lucius to unleash that passion, today she needed to mollify it, or she feared this situation may not end well for all concerned. It was ironically Narcissa herself who gave the young witch the perfect segue into doing so, without of course realising it, and Hermione knew, prompting quite the opposite reaction to the one, she perhaps hoped her words would stir. Hermione saw those cold unfriendly blue eyes flitter from Lucius to herself, a sneer worthy of her husband, curling her thin lips, it morphed into an equally unpleasant smile, those bright blue eyes, glittering with glacial intensity. Hermione knew something nasty was coming and waited, chewing on the inside of her bottom lip.

“You appear a lot more _comfortable_ than the last time I saw you in my…this house Miss Granger.”

Hermione didn’t miss the hateful inflexion in the word comfortable, nor did Lucius or it would appear her son, his blonde head turning towards his mother, the shock evident in both his face and the audible gasp which slipped from his lips.  From the corner of her eye she saw and equally shocked, but decidedly angrier, all be it silent reaction from Lucius. His long fingers flexed around the head of his cane, she could tell he was about to retort, quite possibly more than just verbally.

The fury in his handsome face was the most ferocious the young witch had ever seen, it flowed from those same handsome features into his all but shaking frame. The heat it generated through his body, causing his scent to waft in her direction, teasing her nostrils. Narcissa shifted, her unpleasant smile turning to one of self-satisfaction, clearly more than happy that her words had struck home; retribution for the demeaning words of her husband. Hermione’s eye was now drawn to the small irritated foot which tapped silently on the soft rug beneath it, just daring someone to answer her back. She seemed duly unperturbed, by Lucius’ visible fury, perhaps she was used to such displays. Hermione’s eye lingered for a split second on the expensive rug, a huge smile lifting her lips, her brown eyes twinkling with devilment, she inhaled deeply, savouring the gentle waft of the older wizard’s cologne, it acted like a spell, encouraging her to go on, fuelling that devilment which bubbled under her skin.  Hermione saw the self-satisfaction in Narcissa’s face change to consternation, clearly confused by the younger witch’s reaction. Those piercing frosty blue eyes, now watching Hermione’s every move. As Hermione raised her arm, she noticed Narcissa reach into the pocket of her robe, turning slightly towards Lucius, Hermione noticed his fingers still tightly clasping his wand. Her slim hand came to rest on his, that simple reassuring gesture she was so fond of using when she spoke to him, it curtailed any further movement, her fingers momentarily brushing against his as she spoke. Before her big honey brown eyes met Lucius’, she saw the look on the former Mistress of the Manor’s face change once more, consternation was left behind, her frosty, pinched features now etched in a seething mixture of, rage, amazement, and resentment, even bewilderment was in there somewhere.

“That was some time ago Mrs Malfoy, things….. people have changed considerably since then. Both Draco.” She moved her hand from Lucius, not wishing to imply or convey anything more than simple understanding, gesturing Narcissa’s son, who stood frozen beside her, with her now free hand.

“Both Draco and Lucius” There was her second, perfectly placed bombshell, after the briefest of touches to Lucius’ hand, the use of his given name was almost as if she had struck his wife. Hermione smiled appreciatively and sweetly at both of the Malfoy men.

“Have made me more than welcome.” Hermione once more took the moral high ground, finding she was enjoying the view, quite possibly a little too much. But noticing, Lucius grip on his wand slacken and his eyes fall to the floor and to the rug beneath his wife feet, she couldn’t resist going on.

“As I am sure you can imagine Mrs Malfoy, it wasn’t easy walking back in to the house again, after everything that had happened.” She paused very briefly, allowing her words their full impact, as if Narcissa Malfoy’s needed any such reminders of the torture inflected by her late sister.

“But thankfully I am no longer _floored_ by memories of the past.”

She used her own gentle inflexion, her chosen word had been careful and specific, as was the casting of her eyes downwards. She was not in fact avoiding Narcissa’s blistering stare, but was once again looking at the soft rug beneath her feet. The inference was meant for Lucius of course; she had seen his stormy grey eyes drift in that direction, was he too momentarily reminded of the previous morning, or was he simply averting his eyes from everyone in the room?  She hoped it was the former and that her reference would not be lost on him through the fog of anger. If, however it was the latter perhaps her carefully chosen word would remind him of a, hopefully happier moment, tempering his anger.  The almost indiscernible twitch of his lips and the slight flaring of his nostrils was neither a smirk nor an elevation of that anger, it was quite obviously understanding, recollection. Lucius had known exactly what her word eluded to.

“How very fortunate for you.” There was no sincerity or empathy in Narcissa’s words or in the tone she used, just cool disinterest.

The little devil in Hermione was not only enjoying the view from the moral high ground, but it was also revelling in the mischievous, one might also say somewhat vindictive side the younger witch was displaying. She was totally aware of Lucius’s feelings and his reactions, and trod with great care, treating the former Mistress of the Manor with both politeness and respectfulness. She was however having a very different, entirely, unspoken conversation with her husband.  Her words hopefully reassuring him that she was perfectly able to handle this potentially volatile situation.  The professional in Hermione was also feeling, just a little bit smug. That she could reach Lucius Malfoy on this level, was an achievement in itself, being able to communicate with him, without words, no legilimency required. Oh yes, whatever lines she had crossed, she had certainly achieved something with the dark wizard.

Hermione once again smiled broadly, encompassing both father and son as she spoke, whilst angering Narcissa yet further, as she seemingly overlooked her malicious intent. She gushed a little girlishly just for effect, she didn’t want to push Narcissa Malfoy too far, but just as she had done with Lucius, she wanted her to know she would not be intimidated or undermined in anyway. She might well be in Malfoy Manor, but she and Narcissa Malfoy were equals and as Lucius had pointed out, she was here, very much by invitation.

“It is indeed, I have a job to do after all, and I don’t like anything to get in the way of my professionalism.”

Again, her words were meant for Lucius, the meaning two-fold, this time Lucius caught her eye as she spoke, she saw a softness in the pale grey blue depths of his eyes, contrasting with the anger still etched on his face. A softness that was laced with understanding, gratitude even. A small flush crept over her face, drifting down her neck and infusing her body, the anger in Lucius face also softened to a look of understanding and warmth.

“Quite” The word was clipped and dismissive.

Obviously Narcissa Malfoy had no interest in what Hermione had to say, especially as her barbs were not provoking the response she had clearly hoped. Narcissa redirected her attention to her husband.

“I must say Lucius I am surprised, that you would be so accommodating, dare I say genial, being under such close scrutiny and further investigation from the Ministry of Magic.”

Hermione saw the understanding and warmth vanish from Lucius face, his spine stiffened as he once more looked into the cold, hard face of his wife. She glanced at Draco, who was shifting uncomfortably at his mother’s side, his hands were buried deep in his pockets. His face was stamped with a cross between terror and embarrassment, Hermione wasn’t sure which was the dominating emotion. 

The icy distain in Lucius voice, shrouded the small cheery room in a thick layer of frost.

“Not that it is any of your business Narcissa, but to avoid any distortion of the facts at a later date. I am not under scrutiny, or any form of investigation from the Ministry.” Lucius viewed Narcissa from beneath his long lashes. He had known this woman for the best part of his life, there was little she could conceal from him, he saw the faint glimmer of guilt cross her flushed angry face, an uncomfortable shift in her stance.

His tone of voice would under normal circumstances, have ceased any further conversation on the topic, but this was a woman who had known him for well over two decades, who had been, who was still, married to him, she knew exactly how far to push, even now.  But Hermione couldn’t help but feel, that layer of ice, Lucius had coated the room with, was very very thin, and Narcissa was on very dangerous ground.

“Of course, Lucius whatever you say.” A neatly plucked, dark blonde brown rose, cynically.

Hermione’s own brows rose sharply, not only at Narcissa’s words but that she would choose to show such blatant disbelief with them.  Her small sharp intake of breath, was evidently heard by Lucius.

Lucius had seen that feisty determined look on Hermione Granger’s face many times before, more often than not it had been directed at him.  With her words and her small gestures, she had already reassured him that she was more than capable of meeting his wife on any level she wanted.  Feisty and determined she may well be, but he also knew from her words that Hermione Granger, was very much the professional. She had worried about crossing lines with him, but was more than prepared to use that same professionalism when dealing with Narcissa’s. He wasn’t sure he was capable of restraining his own temper quite so well, and the last thing he wanted was that put to the test before his son, or give Narcissa any further ammunition.

“Hermione.” His voice softened as he directed his words at the young witch, addressing her directly as she had done with him, by her given name.  “Not that it is warranted, but perhaps, you would be better placed to explain to my…… obviously sceptical…...soon to be former wife, your reason for being in this house.”

Two sets of eyes fell on Lucius Malfoy, one set of warm, surprised brown, the other, a cold incredulous, blue. Draco’s were still wide and staring blinding into space.

Professionalism oozed into Hermione’s veins, the little devil sat back, making himself comfortable, enjoying the view just a little bit more.

“Lucius, are you sure?”

The dark wizard nodded his affirmation, a brief sharp action, which caused his long blonde hair, to fall across one shoulder, but his body visibly relaxed as Hermione turned her attention to Narcissa and began to speak once more. Her voice was level and assured as she addressed Lucius’ wife

“I won’t bore or confuse you with the intricacies of my work at the Ministry, Mrs Malfoy” Whilst throw away and light, her words were clearly a put down to the older witch.

Hermione could see the fury once more etched on her thin pinched faced. She really had no mind to listen to anything Hermione might have to say and she was doing so under sufferance and at the express request of her husband. Even she clearly thought, defying him or angering him any further would not be a wise move. The look that she had some odious smell under her sharp little nose, increased. 

“Sufficed to say my job at the Ministry involves working with many of the patients at St Mungo’s and the prisoners in Azkaban.”

Now Hermione had Narcissa Malfoy’s undivided attention. Those glacial blue eyes widening much like her son’s, as they shot to her husband. A little smile lit Hermione from within, Lucius remained calm and unfazed as she spoke. Narcissa was obviously expecting a very different reaction from her husband at the mention of Azkaban. Hermione continued, that little feeling of smug satisfaction increasing.

“To enable me to help the prisoners in Azkaban I needed some insight. There were few people really to whom I could look for that insight, but Lucius was kind enough to agree when Kingsley requested his help.”

Narcissa Malfoy took on an even more stunning likeness to her son, her blue eyes as wide as Draco’s her mouth opening and closing like as fish, just as his had done.  Hermione once more nibbled on the inside of her bottom lip, this time in an effort not to smile.  She had no real gripe or disagreement with the older witch, but she had raised Hermione’s hackles instantly and the young witch had found herself being very defensive of Lucius against her.  Save the conversation she and Lucius had had the previous afternoon, she knew very little about what had transpired between them, and in all honesty just as she had told him before, that was none of her business. However, what she saw, very much as her business, was Lucius’ welfare, she would not allow Narcissa Malfoy to walk back in to the Manor and upset Lucius or undo any of the good she may have done. Where this wilful defensive streak came from she had no idea. The shrill hateful sound of Narcissa Malfoy’s laughter made that streak, decidedly more wilful, and infinitely more defensive.

“You are very good my dear, if I didn’t know better and I wasn’t talking to Hermione Granger, I might be inclined to think that my husband had you under some sort of imperious curse.”

Hermione hated the sound of the false tinny laughter and she was beginning to hate the sound of Narcissa Malfoy’s voice even more. She reminded herself of the little mantra she had used with Lucius, what seemed like an age ago, politeness and professionalism. She repeated it over, before once more addressing Narcissa.  

“You would do well to remember that you **are** talking to Hermione Granger, and as such Mrs Malfoy, a brief flue call to the Ministry and the Minster’s office would be a simple thing to do. I am sure, Kingsley would only be too pleased to check up on how things are going here at the Manor.”

Hermione wasn’t sure if she was angrier at Narcissa’s inference that she had been lied to, or that Lucius would even think about placing her under any curse, let alone the imperious curse.

“As for your husband, as he still is for the time being.” Hermione reminded Narcissa of Lucius words, her anger pushing her into the realms of bitchiness. “Placing me under an unforgivable curse.” This time it was Hermione’s false laughter which permeated the air.

“Why on earth would he need to do that.” This time it was the woman in Hermione who spoke not the professional. “He is charming and articulate; all he needs to do is ask.”

This time it was Hermione who wore the self-satisfied smirk, worthy of any Malfoy in the deathly quiet room. Narcissa and Draco both now stood frozen in stunned wide blue eyed silence. Their pale faces, paler than ever, their mouths almost hanging open. 

The Master of the House stood in his own stunned silence, his beautiful grey blue eyes fixed on the feisty young woman at his side, they were filled with surprise and admiration, this time it was his pale cheeks that were stung by the merest hint of colour, at her quiet, yet forthright words to his, about to be, former wife. Her defence of him so softly and calmly executed, delivered without a second thought, and with a fortitude, even he would have thought twice about crossing. That this woman would defend him in a such a manner, humbled the dark wizard, an emotion that was completely alien to him, but one he found himself oddly at peace with.


	62. The Moral High Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seconds out, as they say...........round two........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks for lovely words and comments about this story. Apologies as always for faux pas, or for upsetting anyone (unintentionally of course)

 

Hermione Granger had stood alongside her friends, against Lord Voldemort, she had told off a giant, and jumped on a dragon’s back. She had stood up to Lucius Malfoy at the tender age of twelve and had spent what seemed to be half her life, fighting with his son, even punching him on the nose during one term. Dealing with the Narcissa Malfoy should therefore be a piece of cauldron cake, but there was a tiny part of Hermione, that was far more fearful of Draco’s mother than any adversary she had faced before, borne of guilt perhaps or maybe because the stakes, as they were, were so very different. She couldn’t help but wonder if she had the right to take the moral high ground with Narcissa, all things considered, the things she had done with this woman’s husband.  _Former,_ a little voice in her head reminded her, not yet she silently answered it back, putting the notion to one side. The conversation as it was, was not about her, she would stand her ground, moral or not.

Despite that little frisson of fear, Hermione did not need her wand, any clever spells or enchantments to duel with Narcissa Malfoy, she was doing well enough with words, and her calm, almost over the top politeness, everything seeming to have a much greater impact from that higher plane, she rightly or wrong stood on.  As the tight faced witch’s anger increased, Hermione became, calmer and annoyingly politer.  She saw Narcissa’s lips thin, her eyes narrowed as they flittered between Hermione and her husband.  The woman in Hermione was now, hand in glove with the professional, although both seemed to be taking their guidance from the little devil, whose hands were rubbed raw in glee.

Narcissa seemed to have recovered quickly from Hermione’s words and fought back with a sharp parry of her own. “Oh, my dear, Lucius can be wonderfully articulate and breathtakingly charming, when it suits him, when of course, he has something to gain or there is something in it for him.”

Hermione was quick to respond and equally as sharp with her words, they were none the less said with the utmost sincerity and once more, carefully chosen: “As I am certain are all men Mrs Malfoy. However, I know that Lucius has very little, if anything to gain in this instance and there really is nothing in it for him. I’ve really had to _massage his ego,_ to smooth things along, but I, and of course the Ministry, are very grateful for both his time and his insight.”

This time she caught Lucius eye, the glint in it, almost as wicked as the smile which curved her lips, their unspoken conversation as prevalent as ever, as all the while she unintentionally continued to rile Narcissa, not rising to her bait, but meeting the older witch on every level, quietly, calmly and of course as always, professionally, protecting herself, her work, and oddly Lucius.

“I mean being stuck here with me chattering on and asking a barrage of _nightmarish_ questions can hardly be anyone’s idea of enjoyment, but then Kingsley Shacklebolt really isn’t a man you say no to.”

Narcissa Malfoy, seemed to quickly gloss over the mention of the Minister of Magic’s name, clearly reducing the tête-à-tête to a very different level, one on which, perhaps she thought she would have the upper hand. Her short dismissive laugh, held no humour, leaving a sour smile on her thin red lips.

“Oh, come come Miss Granger, we are both adults, we are both women. Alone with someone so beautiful, half of his age, I am sure Lucius has everything to gain and is most certainly getting _something_ out of yo…..it.”

The older witch’s uncalled for and bitchy remark was not only directed at her husband, but at Hermione, whilst Hermione might have to tread carefully when it came to her defence of the dark wizard, she certainly did not have to do so when defending her own reputation or that of the Ministry of Magic. Narcissa’s nasty insinuation’s might have been a little too close to the truth in certain respects, but in others they were seriously wide of the beam and Hermione would not allow her continue in this derisory fashion, and to think she had once felt empathy for this woman.

Hermione resisted the urge to “meow” out loud, Narcissa’s comment reducing their conversation, if you could call it that, to what was tantamount to a catfight, taking them to a whole new and very unnecessary low. For a moment, the younger woman toyed with the idea of not dignifying the remark with a response, not wanting this to degenerate any further, or to sink that low herself, but Narcissa might see that as an acknowledgement that she was in some way right. But the little devil was having a field day, and she found herself unable to resist responding, although she did take a very different track, she too could _fight_ dirty, but she would not allow herself to become catty, nor would she allow Lucius to be humiliated in any way.

Hermione had always been of the opinion that if you told the truth, you could quite possibly get away with murder, because sometimes no matter how truthful you were, some people would just not believe you, simply because the reality, was quite simply too unbelievable for them to comprehend. Lucius’ wife was fair game and Hermione knew she would be one such person. She almost blushed at Narcissa’s unexpected if somewhat barbed compliment, any trace of embarrassment quickly turning to taciturn infuriation, her voice dripping with disdainful acerbity.

“But of course, Mrs Malfoy, amidst our lengthy, in-depth and often very difficult conversations, Lucius and I have been having sex at every available opportunity.”

Hermione saw the utter shock and revulsion which crossed Narcissa Malfoy’s face, clearly Lucius’ wife did not believe a word of what Hermione had just said, and was repulsed merely at the inference, with the flippancy of the declaration and with the crudeness of her words. Her own face now etched in solemn, disgust, Hermione continued her measured verbal assault.

“I am sure Mrs Malfoy you of all people, must know just how _arousing_ talking about Azkaban can be and the effect talking about such a dreadful time would have on Lucius. Hardly conducive to what you are implying.”

Hermione couldn’t help her retort; it was, in some ways as low as Narcissa’s but in other’s it was extremely defensive. It was quite possibly just as catty, but it was also very depreciating to the older woman, that she would not understand how talking about such things would affect a man she was supposed to have loved. Ironically, it was the conversation she and Lucius had yet to have, despite it being the official reason why she was here in the first place. The younger woman’s features were now schooled with stern and earnest disbelief. A slight flush once more crossed Narcissa Malfoy’s pale face, at least she had the good grace to look ashamed by her own implication. Even if it wasn’t so far from the truth.

Her words were harsh and unforgiving, and she saw the tall blonde visibly recoil at their ferocity. There may well be an element of fact in what Narcissa Malfoy had said, but that she would use them against Lucius and in front of her son was contemptable, and quite unforgivable. Beneath the abhorrence, Hermione saw in Narcissa’s face, both at the implication and that she had uttered such words aloud, she also saw her regain her composure, and knew she wasn’t about to back down or give up. The contemptuous sneer that twisted Narcissa Malfoy’s red lips was warning enough that this could be about to hit an all-time low.

Hermione prepared herself for further vitriol, stealing a surreptitious, glance at Lucius in the process, at that moment she hated herself. His usually pale face was now ashen and bathed in anger. Any warmth had long since left his pale grey eyes, now the colour of storm clouds, they were narrowed and fixed intently on the woman with whom he had shared the best part of his life.  Hermione had tried to neutralise, what was always going to be a potentially explosive situation, Narcissa had blown it up all over again, now it was getting out of hand for no apparent reason or good purpose, and it was clearly taking its toll on the dark wizard. Hermione would not permit this to continue, she would put a stop to it, even if that meant walking away and allowing Narcissa Malfoy to think precisely what she wanted to, Hermione didn’t care. Her only concern was for the man she had been asked to help, his wife had been the one wanting a divorce, she had someone else, now this was a double standard.

 Narcissa’s cold clear voice once again filled the room.

“And of course, as you pointed out, I am indeed talking to Hermione Granger. You might well be ridiculously smart, quite beautiful and very young, but you are of course, a Mudblood. My husband is Lucius Malfoy whatever else he might be; he would never demean himself or sully his pureblood lineage that far.

Narcissa’s sister had wielded that very same insult at Hermione, years before, in this very house, again, before Lucius and his son, then both Malfoy men had stood by and watched as the deranged Bellatrix had tortured the young witch. For the first time in what seemed like an age, she became aware of Draco, and saw him move, but his father was quicker.  Whilst Draco, might be horrified, shocked even, by his mother’s venom, she knew his retaliation would take no further recourse than just verbal action. Lucius had already reached for his wand, the shining serpent head of his cane having parted company with the dark ebony body.  She might have been annoyed with Draco, for bringing about this painful scene, but the last thing she wanted was Lucius inflicting anything on the boy’s mother, before his very eyes.

“Enough” The word sliced through the air like a sharp knife through hot butter. A dark foreboding sound, which bounced off the papered walls.

Hermione took in the scene around her, watching it unfold almost in slow motion.  She shook her head at Draco, who was moving towards his now clearly frightened mother, his mouth open about to speak. Lucius was closer to her, but she could not reach out and touch him, not again, especially after what Narcissa had just said, and by the fury etched on his face and in his demeanour, she very much doubted either a gentle touch, or a carefully chosen word would do anything to diminish it. The idea of using a spell of any kind on Lucius Malfoy in his own home was quite unthinkable. Hermione’s usually quick brain spun like a golden snitch, and at twice the speed.  She saw Narcissa reach into her pocket for her own wand, her small, thin hand was trembling. There was a split second between Lucius drawing his wand and pointing it at his wife, Hermione could almost see his brain working, the always assured dark wizard clearly in two minds, or perhaps simply trying to decide which incantation to use. It gave the younger witch time to act, all be it, very little time.

She _walked_ determinedly; looking as if indeed, she was about to flee from the hateful words of the older woman and the scene encompassing her, stopping suddenly, after quite literally a single step, she positioned herself strategically between Lucius and his wife, if there were any spells to be cast, Hermione would be caught immediately between them.  Whereas she felt quite certain that Lucius would not want to inflict any harm on her, she could not be so sure about Narcissa. But still the younger witch did not draw her own wand, she might be standing directly between them, but she did not want it to appear she was purposely interceding, especially when she was in fact, indirectly, part of the cause. It appeared the Head of Wizard Welfare and Rehabilitation, now required a N.E.W.T in diplomatic relations. She really did need to defuse the situation and quickly, actually she needed to defuse Lucius’ anger and very quickly, without adding any more fuel to the raging fire. Other than her wand and an arsenal of spells, none of which she wanted to use, the only weapon Hermione had at her disposal was words. With those words, she needed to calm Lucius, whilst assuring him that she was in control of the situation, and that she could handle his wife, all the while maintaining the upper hand with Narcissa, no problem!

The glittering head of Lucius’ wand caught her eye once more and jolted her into action. She might have been able to soothe his anger with his son, but with his wife, that was definitely a line she had no intention of crossing, a distraction was what was needed, and it looked as if she was it.

Hermione could effortlessly have sunk to Narcissa’s despicable level, she could easily have been equally as withering about not wanting to lower her own standards, but she couldn’t do that to Lucius, and it simply wouldn’t have been true. Instead, taking a very deep breath, the woman, the professional and the little devil, all ascended to the moral high ground, the word _former_ echoing around inside her head, and together took a calm and collected stand.  

Lucius’ anger was still rife, his wand raised and poised, directed at his wife, but pointing through Hermione. it dropped slightly as she offered him a warm smile of reassurance. As she saw the elm lower, she returned her full attention to Narcissa, turning once more, she smiled somewhat pitifully at the former Mistress of the house. Maintaining her composure, Hermione spoke with a calm serenity that she certainly wasn’t feeling, her words as polite as they had been before.

“You are more than kind to describe me as beautiful, Mrs Malfoy.” She inclined her head in deference to the backhanded compliment, choosing to ignore Narcissa’s cruel Mudblood reference and the volatile situation that surrounded her.

“As I said previously, fortunately times and people change, your husband might be gracious enough to accommodate me in this house.” Hermione cast another smile in Lucius’ direction, this one of appreciation, her brown eyes imploring him not to do something he might regret. Before returning those same warm, but somewhat intimidating brown eyes to the frosty face of his wife.

“But, and with that pureblood lineage you mentioned aside. He would not look at me in any other way than the capacity for I which I was asked to be here. Whatever shortcomings your husband may have, whatever differences we have had in the past, he is a gentleman and I have never been able to fault his impeccable manners.”

Hermione had said more than enough, but she was determined that Narcissa Malfoy would not get up and retaliate against her again, she saw the cynical look in the older woman’s cold face, clearly finding it impossible that she could actually be referring to Lucius, and perhaps more to the point that it was Hermione Granger saying these things about him.

Through all of her words she had remained, respectful to the woman who previously lived in this house, she had been polite, upholding her office at the Ministry with a controlled, dignified and utterly professional air. She had also spoken the truth, Lucius had been a gentleman, his manners were faultless, it had been she who had changed the way in which he viewed her, but that was simply an omission, it wasn’t a lie. With that same controlled, dignified and utterly professional air, Hermione went in for the kill.

“I am very sorry Mrs Malfoy, if you feel I am in this house under false pretences or with some other motive.” A few hours ago, this was precisely how Hermione had felt about herself, her interaction with Narcissa, had given her a very different viewpoint. Saying the words out loud, oddly to a different Malfoy to whom she had anticipated put things very much in perspective.

“I do not wish to be or appear rude, but I do not have to justify either myself or my reasons for being here to you.” Hermione saw the anger rise once more in Narcissa Malfoy’s pinched pale face, she was however more than well aware, Lucius was mere feet away, his wand still raised and still very much pointing in Narcissa’s direction.

“However, for the sake of my office, I want to ensure that we are perfectly clear as to what those reasons are. I will not have the Ministry of Magic, or the name of someone who is willing to help me and the Ministry besmirched because of your vindictiveness or your jealousy.”

The jealousy was quite possibly a step too far and Hermione found herself on the wrong end of Narcissa’s dark wand, Draco moved towards his mother, but was stopped by a glacial stare.  She didn’t have time to draw her own wand and would have been loath to do so in this woman’s former home. The unexpected sound of Lucius mirthless laughter came from behind Hermione, and she felt his presence move closer.

“You are wasting your time my dear. Draw your wand, cast whatever spell you think Hermione deserves.” His aristocratic tone took on an unusual flippancy.

Hermione cast a surprised looked at the man at her shoulder, quickly looking towards his son, as if he may throw some light on his father’s unanticipated laughter and equally out of character glibness. The younger Malfoy looked equally as baffled as she, as did Narcissa whose wand still loomed ominously.

“How much of a fool do you take me for Narcissa? Do you not think I have taken precautions against every eventuality of you returning to this house? Your wand and your magic are useless once you pass the wards, you are powerless.”

Hermione felt a huge sense of relief at Lucius revelation, and a small frisson of fear that he himself would have raised his own wand to someone who was technically defenceless against him. 

Narcissa went to speak, but clearly thought better of it, her bright angry eyes, darting from each and every person in the room. Finally falling once more upon her husband, he addressed her with an unemotional detachment, that made Hermione’s own blood run cold.

“You put me under a spell once before Narcissa, you took me for a fool then. Did you think I wouldn’t know, that I would not ensure that it _never_ happened again?”

A small gasp escaped Hermione’s lips, Draco glared at his mother, before a strange sadness befell his face. 

Clearly as shocked by Lucius’ revelation as both her son and Hermione, Narcissa Malfoy finally found her voice again, its cold clarity once more drifted into the air. “I did it for you, for your own good. You would never…..”

“No Narcissa” Lucius voice was impassive and harsh as he spoke to his wife.

“You did it for YOU, as always, whatever the motive, whatever the outcome it was always only ever for YOU.”

Whilst his tone was just as cold and just as clear as his wife’s, Hermione detected the merest hint of resignation and wretchedness. Narcissa went to speak once more, but Lucius raised his hand silencing her.

“I think your business in this house is now well and truly concluded. You said what you came to say, and plenty more besides. I will arrange for the papers to be drawn up ending our marriage as you have requested. I will have them owled to you and that will be an end to it.”

Hermione noticed Narcissa’s eyes become overly bright, for the first time that morning it was not with anger but with tears. She couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of sorrow for this woman, despite what had been said and the fact she had been the one requesting an end to their marriage. She must still feel something for the man she had spent so much of her life with, borne a son with. Hermione glanced at Draco, his blue eyes were also bright with emotion, Hermione couldn’t help but feel she was intruding, this was nothing to do with her, it was a private family matter, she needed to excuse herself. Perhaps Lucius sensed her unease or her desire to flee, she felt him move closer, not close enough that they were touching but close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from his powerful body and hear his breathing. Just as she had conversed silently with him, he reciprocated.

“You will now leave this house Narcissa and this time you will not return, is that clear.”

Hermione received a further glacial stare from Narcissa Malfoy before she returned her attention to Lucius. Her voice shook slightly as she spoke, this time there was no simple nodding of her blonde head.

“Perfectly Lucius.”

 


	63. The Littlest of Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quiet after the storm.....................................

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awe thank you all for continued kind kudos and comments over the festive season. I am glad you enjoyed the last chapter so much.
> 
> A couple of chapters back, a guest left a comment about a word which Lucius used, saying it spoilt the entire chapter for them. I did adjust it because I could and because it made little difference to the chapter itself. I did comment on this at the time, but will take a moment to explain now, he used the word simply because it is what he is used to, the same as Hermione occasionally does things the Muggle way, because she is used to both worlds. This chapter that I am posting now was written back in September and addressed his feelings on the subject. I know this wont make a lot of sense to many of you, but just in case that guest is still reading, I wanted to say why ;-) Just me being picky I guess.
> 
> Anyway I hope you enjoy this chapter and a Happy New Year to you all...

 

The bright airy room was once more returned to a state of quiet tranquillity. Draco had left with his mother, Hermione wasn’t sure if he had just left the room with her, or the house itself. He was visibly shaken and affected by what he had seen and heard, but was unenviably caught between both of his parents.  He had been the one who brought Narcissa back into the house, presumably he would be compelled to leave with her, if nothing else but to ensure that she was alright. Hermione also knew the younger Malfoy well enough by now to know he would leave his father to her, and be feeling the need once more, to keep well out of the way.

Despite the peaceful calm which once again engulfed the room, it felt tainted, as if it were in need of a cleansing charm after the cruelty which had been bandied amidst its walls. Hermione had a better idea, soundlessly crossing the floor, she moved towards the long French doors, which opened out onto the gardens. Opting to open them the Muggle way…. just in case. She turned the small brass key and slid down the matching bolts which secured them shut, allowing the fresh spring breeze and glorious sunshine to pour into the room. On the gentle breeze came the sweet scent of hyacinths and narcissus, unlike their namesake they filled the air with a light, delicate and soothing fragrance. Hermione inhaled deeply, letting the aroma and breeze wash over her, refreshing not only the room but also the young witch.

Lucius was watching her intently, but whilst his pale, blue grey eyes were fixed on her, his mind seemed to be a million miles away. Hermione wondered if perhaps she should leave him alone, give him some space, but in all honesty, she wasn’t entirely sure that was such a good idea. The decision as to what to do, was taken from her, when the dark wizard finally spoke.  One simple word, in his clipped aristocratic tones, his voice hushed, barely above a whisper, just about audible over the bird song which now drifted in from the gardens on that soft refreshing breeze.

“Why?”

Even in those muted, cut glass tones, Hermione heard the utter disbelief. A strange hurt seeped into her veins, the woman who was Head of Wizard Welfare and Rehabilitation understood his pain and his reaction only too well, unfortunately the woman who had shared so much intimacy with this man struggled with understanding. Watching Lucius sink almost defeated into the chair she was so fond of, Hermione gathered her own composure, just as she had seen Narcissa do but a short time ago, she took a deep breath and slowly walked back across the room to where he sat. She didn’t take the chair opposite him, standing gave her the confidence and authority she needed right now, even if her knees were still a little shaky from the encounter with the former mistress of the manor. 

In all honesty, Hermione wasn’t sure which bit of all that had happened, his heartfelt, why? even applied to. Perhaps Lucius didn’t actually want an answer, perhaps he was simply voicing a thought aloud. One look into those beautiful eyes of his told her, the man was desperately looking for an answer. She only hoped that she could be impartial enough to give him the one he was looking for; there was the trouble with that line crossed again, her judgement clouded, her words possibly not quite so objective as they should be. She had all but lectured the dark wizard earlier about, things not always being black and white, about there not always being a right or wrong way of dealing with something. This was definitely one of those instances, and one where the young witch most definitely had to go with her gut.

“Words were said in anger Lucius, we talked about this before, sometimes we say things we don’t mean, I am sure Narcis….” Lucius was shaking his blonde head, the incomprehension clearly visibly on his handsome, but still pained face.

“No”. His voice was a little louder now, more forceful.

“Not Narcissa, I understood why she said all those hateful things, I was married to her for over twenty years, unfortunately I know her all too well. Why did you say the things you did?” He paused for a moment, those piercing eyes of his, searching her face for that answer he was plainly so desperately looking for.

“You were angry too, perhaps you didn’t mean them” He suddenly looked disillusioned, frightened even.

Hermione’s brain was racing once more, like a giant sponge trying to absorb what Lucius was saying, whilst at the same time trying to remember what she had said. Everything had happened so quickly, she had responded intuitively. She quickly replayed her words and her reactions to Narcissa, over in her head. She hadn’t wanted Lucius to be humiliated, she hadn’t wanted Lucius to be hurt, she hadn’t lied, she’d been a little liberal with the truth in places, but only to protect Lucius. Lucius, it was all about Lucius; that was the “why” comprehension dawned and with it came an odd sense of relief. Relief that she could answer the dark wizard truthfully, because she was answering for herself and not trying to justify the actions of his wife, and relief that he was more curious about her words and actions than Narcissa’s.  

She moved a little closer, standing directly before him, with that sense of relief, came confidence.

“I was incredibly angry Lucius, and I suppose it may sound as if I am moving the Quidditch posts to suit myself, but contrary to what I said before, not all things said in anger are said without thought or without them being meant.” She gave him a rueful smile.

“There wasn’t a word I said to Mrs Malfoy that I didn’t mean, or wouldn’t say again.”

“But, even, even when she was so nasty to you. You, you stood up for me?”

Hermione found it impossible not to reach out and touch Lucius, or to be more accurate, she found it impossible not to reach out and touch his hair, gently and reassuringly as you would a child, but with a familiarity, which came only from the intimacy that they had shared.  As always, she chose her words with care, but this time they did not have to be so, that only he would understand the inference.

“Of course, Lucius, why wouldn’t I? I was standing up for the truth.” Another rueful smile curled her lips. “I told Mrs Malfoy the absolute truth, that she elected not to believe me for whatever reason, well, that was her choice.”

Lucius hair was silky soft beneath her fingers, and despite looking into a face she now knew so well, it reminded her who this man was, of everything that had happened between them, right from that very first meeting, all those years ago.

“Whatever the truth has been Hermione, no one has ever stood up for me as you did, not in my entire life. Malfoy’s learn from almost the moment they can walk, talk, hold a wand, to stand up for themselves, to defend themselves.”

A rather maternal flame suddenly flared within Hermione, imagining a very young Lucius being told this, she pictured Draco being taught the same thing years later. Whilst Mr & Mrs Granger were always keen for the Hermione Jean to stick up for herself and find her own feet, they would have stood up for their daughter no matter what.  She had no doubt whatsoever that Lucius, and even Narcissa would have done the same for Draco, protecting him no matter what, in certain respects they had, but things were clearly very different in the Malfoy’s world.

Her fingers went from gently stroking Lucius silky mane of blonde hair, to almost fondly caressing his head. She was aware of her actions, but found it impossible to stop, her gentle touch accompanying her equally gentle words.

“Sometimes Lucius, no matter how old we are, how clever we are, or how formidable an adversary we are, we all need someone to be there for us, be it with an encouraging word, a reassuring touch or a fierce deed. Sometimes just knowing someone is there for us makes all the difference. Gives you courage that you otherwise wouldn’t have, or the strength simply to carry on. Without any of that you are just……” Her voice trailed off slightly, many things suddenly falling into place with her own impassioned words.

“Without that knowledge, we are just alone.”

Sadness and despair drifted in Hermione’s veins. Lucius Malfoy had probably felt alone for much of his life, not just those months, weeks, days, hours he had spent by himself in Azkaban Prison.

Lucius lifted his head once more, looking into the beautiful face of the young woman before him. She saw and understood so much, things that were beyond his own comprehension, but things as she spoke softly, patiently and without judgement, to him, he gradually began to understand and come to terms with. Despite everything that had happened this morning and everything that was spinning around tumultuously in his head at this moment, he had to smile. An old memory, an odd thought drifted into his mind, even from so many years back, her words now, made perfect sense.

“When you were a child and you stood up to me in Flourish and Blotts, you weren’t afraid, nor were you alone. You knew that without a word being uttered, ever person with you would have stood up for you, just as you did for the Potter boy.”

She returned his smile, but her words were serious: “Yes Lucius I did, adult and child alike, it didn’t matter that you were Lucius Malfoy, every one of them would have stood by me and defended me if they needed to, I was never in any doubt about that.” Her hand stilled against his head, just her thumb moving against the silkiness beneath it.

“I am not sure I could honestly admit to having thought that much about the consequences of my anger at that time. But Harry was, is my friend, defending him, championing the truth were all that mattered.”

Hermione saw the struggle in Lucius’ face as the normally articulate wizard sought his words.

“Tell me Lucius, we both said we would be honest with each other. It’s alright, no judgements, no repercussions, I promise.”

No one had ever promised Lucius anything, not in a nice way that was. He sincerely believed Hermione, he could probably tell her the most awful truths and she would not judge or belittle him, he had already told her some things he considered just that. Each time her responses had been, more than a little surprising to him, she was always kind, understanding, sometimes horrified, but never condemnatory, unforgiving or depreciating.

“I despised the Potter boy.” He admitted freely.

“Because of what I believed, because of what I had been made to believe. In truth, he wasn’t so very different from Draco. But right at that moment, in the dusty old bookshop, when you spoke, somehow, I hated him more than ever.”

For the first-time Lucius looked away from Hermione, avoiding those passionate warm brown eyes. Avoiding her compassion and her understanding, but never her pity, it was something he had never seen reflected in her eyes or in her face. He gazed towards the open doors as he spoke, that faraway look, once more clouding his features.

“It might seem very foolish, maybe a little disturbing, fanciful even in the grand scheme of things, especially then. But that young boy standing so proudly and so fiercely before me, he had everything already, and then there was you. At such a young age, so feisty and so passionate, so ready and eager to stand up for what they believed, for a friend, it was quite wondrous. As you said, knowing that you have someone like that beside you, behind you, however you want to view it, it would give a person untold courage………”

This time it was Lucius’ voice that trailed off, ghosts of the past perhaps, or simply a grief for something he had never had or experienced.

“You gave me that same courage, that unspoken backing today.” She said with that identical feisty, passion.

With her words, Lucius’ attention gradually, almost disbelievingly came back into the room, to the present, His eyes drifting from the gardens, settling once more upon Hermione’s face, confusion and doubt flittering in their depths.

“I but……...”

“There was a moment, just before Mrs Malfoy raised her wand, you were already standing behind me, you were quite close, but you moved, it was barely noticeable, but I felt it, it made me even more aware of your presence and I knew whatever your wife did or said to me, whatever happened you were there, it gave me courage.

“Narcissa is no longer my wife Hermione, she hasn’t been for a very long time.”

It seemed as if Lucius was avoiding what she had said, but she knew he wasn’t, she could see it in his face, he was distancing himself from Narcissa’s cruelty, reiterating a point.

“Semantics.” She said slowly, purposefully. “For the time being, even if it is on paper and in name only, Narcissa is still Mrs Malfoy.”

He nodded his blonde head against her hand.

“You know I would never have allowed any harm to come to you. I knew Narcissa was powerless, but I…...”

Hermione stopped him: “Yes Lucius, I do know, it’s what I meant about knowing you were there. I had total faith in you, the things you had said about me being invited into this house, about Narcissa treating me with respect. I knew whose corner you were in, without you having to actually say the words.”

Hermione noticed a little confused look cross his face at her very Muggle expression.

“Sorry, I meant I knew whose side you were on.”

“I am sorry too.” He said without preamble. “That you had to be party to any of that. Narcissa was wrong, what she said about me, about… she had no right to say the things she did, I don’t feel…… I don’t think of you….”

The word he was so desperately trying to avoid was the troll in the room, those eight little letters, looming large like one of the hideous creatures, but refusing to be said. Hermione took a small step back from Lucius, her slim fingers still entwined in the silky length of his hair.

“Say it Lucius, just say the word. Narcissa said it in spite, her words were nasty and venomous. It really is just a word.”

Hermione suddenly found her mind going back to her second year at Hogwarts, the first-time Lucius’ son had hurled the hateful word at her. She could still hear the venom in his voice and the distaste in his face. Hermione had been devastated and so hurt. Now in his father’s face, an older, more attractive version, she saw none of that, she watched the revulsion ebb into his noble features, the sorrowful and apologetic look cloud his expressive grey eyes.

“Narcissa had no right to say the things she did, she had no right to speak for me… I”.

Hermione was amazed at just how difficult the words, or that one little word was for Lucius to say. They had used it before, but it had been in general conversation, this was somehow very different. Once upon a time the word would have slipped easily from his mouth. he would have had no compunction about issuing such a hateful and degrading insult to her. Now even just to repeat it in conversation visibly reviled him.

A strand of his mellifluous blonde hair slipped through her fingers, the gesture almost trance like. Hermione still looked down on the seated dark wizard, and her hand came to rest momentarily on his slightly hunched shoulder, before drifting to his left arm, stopping midway between his shoulder and his elbow, she reassuringly squeezed one of the defined muscles in his upper arm. Her eyes falling to the lower part of his limb, where the dark mark had once been so prevalent, tarnishing his pale skin. Finally, she broke contact with him as she pulled up her sleeve, revealing the now considerably faded scar on her own arm. She held it out towards Lucius, up close it wasn’t difficult to make out the word which had been carved into her skin, the word the man who had stood by and watched it all happen, was now so unwilling to repeat.

He took her forearm tenderly in his hand, his long fingers delicately encircling it, allowing his thumb to trace the ugly word engraved into her delicate skin, by his crazy sister-in-law.  Despite this having come up before, she noticed, his face once more went a shade paler than usual, he was visibly shaken. His were eyes focused sadly and then angrily on her own _dark mark_. Hermione noticed him swallow hard.

“Narcissa had no right to say the things that she did.” His usually firm and assertive voice waivered slightly.

I do _not_ think of you as a Mudblood.” The word almost stuck in his throat as he spoke, a bitter taste filling his mouth as he finally said it.

“It is a vile filthy word, a nasty derogatory term.  It _was_ a word which represented _everything_ I was brought up to believe was wrong, was dirty.”

Hermione noticed him shudder as he spoke: “But it is just a word Lucius, a label if you like, admittedly not a nice one, but that’s all it is. It hurt me much more as a child, when Draco called me it, in front of my friends.”

“And I was responsible for that too.” He interjected quickly. “I instilled that in him and I was wrong.” Shame sent the dark wizard’s blood cold.  

“Back then, I would look at someone and see that word, what it represented, what it stood for. I no longer see the things I once did. NOW, I see, amongst other things, a beautiful, intelligent and compassionate young woman and I wonder how I could ever have though anything differently.”

Hermione felt warmth flush her skin at his flattering words.

“As I keep saying Lucius, it’s a word, like many words it’s open to interpretation, and just as you said, you can look at someone and see a word. Pureblood, is a word, not such offensive term but just as you say, back _then,_ you and _your kind,_ gave the word a bad name.

“Touché, Hermione.” There was the tiniest glimmer of lightness in his words, before the seriousness returned.

“I do _not_ feel that any association with you would sully my lineage or that _anything_ that we have shared is demeaning to myself in any way.”

The words evolved into a firmly but formally delivered statement, there was no passion in his voice as he spoke, but as his pale blue grey eyes, once more came up to meet hers they were filled with an emotion that Hermione had never seen before. His thumb not ceasing to caress the white raised skin as he spoke.

“This.” His thumb stilled, but he didn’t take his eyes off Hermione for an instant.

“This…. As well as making me feel sick and so utterly ashamed, makes we wonder even more…. Why? I stood by, in this very house, a grown man, a father, and allowed this, I stood by and watched an innocent girl, not much more than a child, be tortured by a madwoman, I didn’t even attempt to stop her and yet here you are in that same house, defending me so fiercely and against my own _wife”_ The word was spat, said with almost as much disgust as the word Mudblood.

“I have done nothing to warrant that, I have done nothing to deserve _any_ of what you have done or said to me. I have done nothing to earn your forgiveness”

To a certain extent, Hermione had to admit what Lucius said was right, but she found it very sad that they had shared some very intense intimacy, but for Lucius there was still so much doubt. She truly felt that one way or another Lucius Malfoy had suffered as much, quite possibly more than most. He was no saint, he had been a most unpleasant man, he had done unspeakable things, but he had paid in so many ways for his sins and that was excluding his stay in Azkaban.

“To some that may or may not be true Lucius, but…...” She tried to keep any trace of pity out of her voice. “But from where I am standing, from what you have told me, and from what I have seen and heard with my own eyes and ears, you have endured your fair share of suffering and of blame. Even you deserve a second chance. Even you deserve, need, someone to be there for you.”

He said nothing, his grip tightening on her arm, it was almost vicelike, his head dipped forward as he averted his overly bright eyes from hers. At the same moment, Hermione took a small step back towards the dark wizard, the two simultaneous actions, brought his head against her breast, Hermione’s hands automatically went to his head, all but cradling him against her, once more stroking his long smooth tresses. She felt a tiny moment of something within him, hesitation, shock perhaps, she thought he was going to pull away, it was clearly something he was not used to, but in the tranquil silence of the room, she felt the tension ebb from his body and he relaxed against her.

 

 

 

 


	64. Behind The Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Narcissa's visit ..........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks for your kudos and lovely comments. As usual blah blah apologies etc for whatever.........

 

The minutes ticked by, Hermione wasn’t sure how long they remained like this; the formidable dark wizard’s blonde head resting against the breast of the young Mudblood, it made for a strange and very unexpected picture. For some reason Hermione, didn’t want to think about the reality of it, much like when she had woken up this morning, the woman in her inexplicably just wanting to savour it. After the cruel angry words of earlier she delighted in the peace, the only sounds in the room, came from beyond the open windows, a gentle rustle of trees and the sweet, happy singing of the birds.   

During her weeks at St Mungo’s and at Azkaban, she had from time to time offered the patients, the inmates, the occasional display of tactile reassurance, but no matter how hard she tried to convince herself otherwise, it was nothing like this, she felt nothing like this. Of course, she had a certain amount of history with Lucius Malfoy, but that history aside, the truth was, Hermione had never felt anything like this all around. Even at this moment she didn’t want to move, she didn’t want to break the strange connection she had forged with the man she had once hated so much. 

With the sudden thought of Azkaban, that little part of Hermione’s brain which championed clarity and logic, began to take over. Her thoughts were still very much of Lucius, but they gradually began to drift back to her reason for being here, both the real one and the ruse.  Hermione felt that Lucius had been through more than enough for one morning, this was becoming a nasty habit, the morning not dissimilar from the previous one. But, somehow this _was_ different. Lucius’ anger towards Draco not 24 hours ago, had been a very different reaction to the one he showed towards Narcissa. Yes, he had been very angry the previous day, but more than anything he had been so incredibly hurt. Today Hermione saw none of that hurt, today she had seen unfettered anger. Yesterday amidst that anger she had seen desolation and despair in Lucius’ face, in his eyes. Today she saw _only_ fury and she saw loathing. Each emotion scared her in its own way, he would need to deal with those raw emotions, she would need to deal with those raw emotions, but somehow, she felt it was a step in the right direction.

If Lucius felt like talking to her after all of what had happened so be it, but she wasn’t of a mind to play Tomás de Torquemada, she was altogether not averse to remaining as they were, but she really needed to take a step back both metaphorically and literally. The sound of a dog barking in the distance gave the young witch an idea which could quite possibly combine everything, whilst maintaining that _strange connection_ with Lucius.

She took that literal step back, her hands now coming to rest on Lucius broad shoulders. He looked oddly bereft at the loss of contact, and she saw the faintest trace of fear cloud his eyes. She spoke to him with that same soft, gentle tone she had been using with him, for most of the morning.

“Do you think that Kauno and Isa would enjoy a walk, I know I would, and it looks like another lovely day. You could show me some more of the outside of the Manor.”

The fear that had clouded those mesmerising eyes of his changed, and they seemed to sparkle with an almost boyish delight.

 

The two enormous hounds were fast asleep in the kitchen, their long, lanky limbs stretched out, and seeming to take over half the stone floor, in the far from small room. Hermione couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“Do you suppose they have moved at all since we left them yesterday?”

Hermione’s laughter and her voice, had left both dogs unmoved, but at the sound of Lucius’ dulcet tones, four brown eyes sprang open and two large fury heads rose keenly.

“Hmm quite possibly not.” He said indulgently.

The genuine smile on Lucius face, after the pain and anger of earlier, made Hermione’s heart almost miss a beat. He was leaning against the heavy wooden table, and looked like a completely different man, the tension and anger in his body replaced, by a calm contentment, something the docile animals seemed to bring out in him. The smile that curved his lips and the warmth which lit his eyes, made him look even more attractive than normal, Hermione found herself transfixed by him.

“Would you have?” He asked without warning.

She was drawn out of her thoughts by the sound of his voice, just like the dogs, her own warm brown eyes, raising at its dulcet sound. A little droll humour too, she mused, relief flooding her veins, having feared the worse after yesterday, and then this morning’s the far from pleasant encounter with Narcissa.

Lucius Malfoy had once worn a mask which terrified her, a little part of her wondered if he still wore a mask, oh no longer one of a Death Eater, she knew that, but one which concealed part of himself from the outside world, that terrified her too, but in a very different way. In such a short time, she hadn’t learned to see beyond any facades, was he hiding behind it now, masking the pain he had so clearly felt, by humouring her? For now, she pushed the thought away, returning his light humour.

“Well I am not sure if you made me sleep in front of the oven, I would have been overly impressed with your hospitality Lucius.”

A familiar dark blonde brow rose and the smile vanished, Hermione’s mouth went dry, perhaps he wasn’t hiding part of himself at all, maybe after all that had been said and done, it was too soon for sarcasm, even from her.

“Let us equate your warm comfortable bed to the floor in front of the oven.”

His haughty tone and the way in which he tilted his head as he spoke, catapulted Hermione back to their very first meeting, that derisory curiosity had been accentuated even then, but then it had been so very real. She tried to keep her own face straight, clearly it wasn’t too soon for sarcasm, Lucius obviously enjoying the light relief. She responded to his question with the same seriousness with which it had been asked.

“In which case Lucius, no, I would not have willing been pried from it.”

Lucius brow creased once more, as he perched a little more comfortably on the edge of the table, folding his arms, and feigning his irritation. The actions tightening every piece of clothing he wore, Hermione found her mind wandering, the little devil back on familiar ground; had Lucius Malfoy always been quite so…..Ginny Weasley’s word popped into her head, hot? She felt her face flush as she drew her attention fully back to what he was saying.

“It would appear that along with everything else, my son is developing an annoying penchant for impromptu arrivals and ruining my mornings.”

Despite the severity of the situation which had occurred earlier, Hermione knew his words were not meant maliciously, but there was still a glimmer of anger in his face. She didn’t want that, even if she felt now, that anger was more for having his morning interrupted than anything else. Her idea had been to distract him from what had happened, give him something else to think about. For some reason, she however also wanted to keep Lucius off the subject of how the morning might have played out, had they not been interrupted, they had gone down that road before …… and whilst the nice soft rug in the sitting room might have been reasonably acceptable to Lucius Malfoy, she really didn’t want to think about the kitchen table. 

Lucius noticed Hermione’s pretty face blush slightly, her brown eyes avoiding his own and looking fixedly at the table against which he leant. Despite the somewhat different location, Lucius had a very peculiar sense of déjà vu, this time he refused to be confounded by his own words, and was determined to shake of some of the shackles of his past. He recalled her words to him the previous morning, the conversation that had preceded the sex on the rug, he too felt a warm flush swell through his body. A rather smart and incredibly beautiful woman, whose direction and counsel he was very much beginning to respect and value had recently told him, sometimes there is no right or wrong way to handle a situation, that you have to go with your instincts, your gut. It wasn’t his gut which had guided him when he had first awoken this morning, to find that same, very smart and incredibly beautiful young woman stretched out beside him. He did however find those decidedly male instincts, that same young woman had mentioned only the previous day, were now very much in control.

It felt strange talking about such things after what had happened, but Lucius went with those very male instincts, he went with his gut. In his own inimitable way, of course.

“Like my son Hermione, my timing could be better, but someone once told me, sometimes you have to go with your instincts.”

Her curious brown eyes left the clearly fascinating table and once more met his own gaze, he gave her a rather shy smile.

“The geography might also be a little off, but at least this morning I did wake to find you in a bed with me.”

Hermione felt the heat suffuse her face yet further at his words, yesterday Lucius had been the one bathed in the gentle tinge of embarrassment, at an almost identical conversation, today it would appear it was her turn, why she wasn’t entirely sure. Lucius was hiding nothing behind any mask, his handsome face was completely open as he spoke. Those expressive grey blue eyes, much bluer now, as he looked honestly at her. He held out his hand to her, it was an unassuming, innocuous enough gesture, but Hermione felt there was so much more, both behind it and in it. She took it without question, her small slight hand, clasped between his large fingers, and moved towards the dark wizard.

“Yesterday, and then again this morning when you were _speaking_ to Narcissa, you spoke of professionalism, you are concerned that you have, crossed certain lines with me?

Hermione nodded her head, her usual self-assurance wavering under Lucius’ stern, unfathomable gaze.

“I know you came here with a purpose, as you told Narcissa so passionately, you are here at the behest of Kingsley Shacklebolt, and I for one, wouldn’t want to cross any lines of my own with him or the Ministry of Magic, but…….” For the first time Lucius voice faltered slightly, unsure of his words and uncharacteristically of himself.

“You are an intelligent and very focused young woman Hermione; do you think…. would it be possible that…?”

Hermione had an incredibly soft, and rather weak spot for the polite, oh so proper, and from time to time uncertain Lucius Malfoy. It revealed an honesty and a vulnerability she would never have thought possible in this most challenging of men.

“Would I be presuming or expecting too much if I asked if it was possible that you could or would combine the two things?”

With Lucius’ uncertainty, as always came that odd sense of empowerment, her self-assurance came racing back.

“Are you asking me Lucius, if I can sleep in your bed and remain professional?”

This time it was he who simply nodded his head in affirmation.

Hermione thought for a moment, she had asked herself this many times, the last time but a few short hours ago, but now she was actually in no doubt whatsoever.  She had crossed lines that you should never cross, she had questioned her own judgement, her own objectivity, and her own ethicality but after the encounter with Narcissa she now felt very differently.  She also had to remind herself, that as far as Lucius was concerned she was here simply to talk to him, to gain his insight for her work with the Ministry, her sleeping with him should have no bearing on that. As for what she was doing for Draco, well that was very different, but it was also personal, that she had crossed those lines, well that had been her choice.

“My honest answer Lucius is yes.”

“There is a but.” He quickly interrupted, that look of disappointment once more clouding his features.

Hermione squeezed the hand that she was holding.

“There is actually a but, but” She met the confusion in his eyes with an appeasing smile.

Hermione was well aware that her responses to him now, were coming from a very different place, those odd little feelings, those questions she asked herself all now becoming abundantly clear. Hermione being Hermione, she really needed time to think about and process her realisations.

“But, I in all honesty am not sure that I should.” Again she saw his face fall, she felt the defeat ebb through his body and squeezed his hand harder.

“But, I want to.”. She felt her own face flush once more at her brazen admission, but as ever she would not lie to him. Thought and procession could wait

“Actually there are three buts.

Lucius smile lit his eyes, clearly not caring that there was a third, his face suddenly falling once more

“Please do not tell me that the third one is, but you won’t.”

This time it was Hermione smile which broadened and lit her eyes, in fact it was more of a huge grin, which broadened yet further at the evident relief reflected in the face of the dark wizard.

“I wouldn’t, couldn’t be that cruel Lucius.”

He knew this to be true, having seen her in full flight earlier with Narcissa. She could easily and justifiably have been cruel to her, but whilst he had seen a brutal honesty, there had been no sign of cruelty. He doubted Hermione Granger had a cruel bone in her body…... In that moment, something else suddenly occurred to Lucius, something he hadn’t even considered until the scene with Narcissa replayed over in his mind, until it appeared the word cruelty had been mentioned. 

“I was just going to say……but…..”

His sudden thought surpassed any buts, Lucius scrabbling around in his head for the right words, already aware that this probably was not the right time, but then his timing had been distinctly off already this morning, he had to know.

“The article in the Daily Prophet.” He said all at once, then paused, still looking for the right words, seeing the total confusion on Hermione’s face didn’t help, he tried to clarify and explain himself better, the urgency hindering his words.

“I am sorry Hermione, seeing you with Narcissa, your words, they way you stood up for me.” He saw her pretty face cloud with yet more mystification.

“You have never once asked me about the article itself.”

All at once it became clear to the baffled young witch what Lucius was trying to say, what had suddenly throw his mind into turmoil. Obviously, what had happened with Narcissa had brought it home the dark wizard. For the second time, Hermione asked the actual question for him.

“Are you asking me if I believed anything that was written?”

“Yes.” The word was hushed, in its brevity Hermione heard dread.

Her own answer was equally as short but decidedly more emphatic.

“No.”

She would like to have ended the conversation there, but she could see from the look on Lucius face it wasn’t enough. The article had come up in conversation a couple of times, or rather the reprisals from it had, but they had never talked directly about the hateful words written by Rita Skeeter, Hermione was loathed to do so now, but plainly it was something Lucius needed to hear. His needs were paramount, never more so than now.

“I have been on the receiving end of Rita Skeeter’s vicious pen Lucius. I know first-hand that very little she writes is based on any facts. The truth is incidental to a good story, that might sell the newspaper. I think I would have done everyone a favour if, I’d left her in that bloody jar.” The last part of her sentence was muttered, she could tell by the look on Lucius’ face and the inclination of his head that he hadn’t heard her words, deciding this wasn’t the time of place to recount that particular tale from her schooldays. Especially not in view of what she and her friends had done to Draco moments later. Although given his current feelings towards his son…...Hermione came back to the point in hand, the article Lucius was suddenly so preoccupied with.

“I will admit I didn’t read all of the article, what little I did read made me sick to the stomach.”

“Because you thought it might be true?” Again, his clipped voice was hushed and laced with dread.

Anger bubbled in Hermione’s veins at his words, a little annoyed and hurt if she were honest, hurt that he would think such a thing. Biting it back, Lucius did not need anger from her, another emphatic no fell from her lips.

“Even then, ALL those weeks ago, before _anything_ else had happened.” She traded anger for sarcasm it was less harsh.

“I knew many horrible things about you, things that **were** factual, I had seen some of them first hand.” She didn’t elaborate, Lucius had endured enough painful reminders of the past, for one morning.

“I might not have been friends with Draco at school, but he talked about you incessantly, I doubt even he would have been so proud of the man the article depicted.” She paused, watching his reaction intently, but continued quickly.

“As you have said, you spent much of your life with Narcissa.”

Hermione was careful with her words, even placating Lucius, she did not want to make any assumptions about his marriage, there were lines and there were lines! She as ever went with the personal view.

“Speaking as a woman, and having seen first-hand how feisty Narcissa is, I very much doubt for one moment that she would have put up with any of things Rita Skeeter said. I imagine had you tried to lay a finger on her, Lucius Malfoy or not you would have felt the full force of her wrath.  And seeing how quickly she has moved on now, I also doubt she would have hung around for very long as you slept your way through the array of beautiful witches also described in graphic detail by Ms Skeeter.”

She expected an equally feisty retort from the dark wizard, but his words remained quiet and now filled with sadness.

“As I told Draco, I am aware of my shortcomings as a man, as a father, and as a husband, but I would never lay a hand on Narcissa. Until today, I have never even raised my wand in anger towards her. As for anything else.” Lucius now paused, to choose his own words with equal care.

“I was until very recently, _all those weeks ago,_ I think you said, utterly faithful to my wife and to my marriage.”

Hermione recalled only too well the devastated words he had used to his son, only the previous morning, she didn’t want him going back down that dark road again. Whilst there was a Muggle expression about there being no smoke without fire. Hermione was however, totally convinced that the odious Rita Skeeter, created her own smoke and made her own fire. Lucius had promised her the truth, she believed him.

“But.” She slipped the word in, bringing Lucius back to the conversation they had been having.

“But I don’t believe a word of what was printed.”

A weak, thankful smile curled Lucius lips, he closed his eyes gratefully and nodded his blonde head.

“I am sorry I interrupted, that I doubted…. but I had to know.” He saw the usual look of understanding in Hermione’s face.

The why still drifted through his mind, no matter what she said, how unequivocal her words were, he still at times found himself undeserving of her forgiveness, and unworthy of so much more. He wasn’t of a mind for any more confrontation today, and as he had been told, went with his instincts, returning once more to the conversation they had been having.

“So, what was that last but, of yours then?” He asked, his tone lightening.

Hermione’s mind raced back to what she had been about to say, trying to pick up where she had left off.

“I was just going to say……but, it mustn’t affect my reason for being here.”

A little callous it might seem from the Ministry aspect, but for the real reason she was here, from Draco’s point of view, she needed Lucius to continue talking to her, to enable her to help him and for him to help himself.  In all honesty, she doubted that would change, thus far the two had not been mutually exclusive.

The handsome blonde wizard looked earnestly at her.

“My honest answer.” His face was serious but there was now a small sparkle in those molten silver eyes.

“The fact that you slept in my bed in the first place is the reason why you are here, it is the reason why I agreed to do this for you, for the Ministry.” The words did not come out entirely as Lucius had intended, they sounded cold and conniving.

“Hermione I didn’t mean….I…..”

She saw the flustered horror in his face. She knew exactly what he meant, what he had been trying to say. How could she fail not to, she had had the self-same thought herself. She was more than well aware that the friendship, dare she say relationship she now had with Lucius was quite possibly, the only reason he had agreed to speak with her, that, and perhaps initially, a little curiosity of his own.

“I know what you meant Lucius, I had a similar thought myself. I am well aware that it is only because of the friendship, relationship we have forged that you agreed to put yourself through this. I am still very grateful that you agreed, whatever the reason.

She wasn’t sure her own response was any better than his, but they both understood what the other was trying to say, in their rather ham-fisted way. For two usually perfectly articulate people, they were making quite a dog’s dinner of a relatively simple conversation.

The thought of dogs drew Hermione’s attention to the sound of a loud canine yawn, which emanated from behind her, it was followed by the gentle thud or a bored fury body hitting the hard stone floor.  Kauno and Isa might have been excited at the sound of their master’s voice, but as nothing seemed to be materialising, no food, or the prospect of a walk any time soon, both animals had resumed their sleeping positions before the stove.

 

Lucius found himself engulfed once more by that odd sense of déjà vu, taken back to the previous morning when he and Hermione had been in his study, moments before he had followed her into the kitchen. When her lips had gently and without explanation or reason brushed against his own. That kiss that had been so easy, so spontaneous and so natural for her. Everything that had happened from that point onwards, had almost been defined by that small action, it had clearly been a very ordinary, very feminine instinct for her.   With a swift jerk of his hand, Lucius pulled the young witch against him, her soft body, warm and pliant against the solid firmness of his own. Going with his own very male instincts, he held her against him, his lips gently brushing hers, easily, spontaneously and so naturally.

 


	65. Novel Conversation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always just my continued thanks for comments and Kudos, and apologies for faux pas.

Without a single word being said, something had changed, Hermione could sense it, she could feel it. She just wasn’t entirely sure what! Lucius kiss had been so unexpected and so different.  Maybe she was wrong after all about things changing without a single word being exchanged, maybe those four little words she had uttered had very much changed things “Yes, I want to.”

In hindsight, she should have thought a little more before answering his question. But then on the spur of the moment she had incarcerated herself in Azkaban, to help and understand this man. She could hardly equate that to this, but had she agreed to sleep in his bed for the same reasons? The simple answer even to herself was yes, the complication came with her realising that the reasons didn’t have anything to do with her work.

It was something else she pushed aside and would think about later, that pile of thoughts was ever mounting, she would have to address them at some point.  They drifted through her head from time to time as they strolled around the gardens. The dogs alternated between charging ahead playfully or walking obediently at Lucius’ heal, there was an odd feeling engulfing them. Yes, it was peaceful and beautifully serene, yes it was tranquil, idyllic almost but there was something else. She and Lucius continued to walk in a companionable silence, savouring it all after the tumultuous events of the morning. It was odd that she should feel so relaxed and so at ease here of all places, after the events of the morning, and after everything that had happened here, but she did.  For the first time as she walked closely by the dark wizard’s side she felt a similar sense of peace emanating from his powerful frame.

There was so much beauty surrounding her, ironically in a house that had once filled her with so much trepidation.  Brought here in the dead of night, tortured betwixt its dark foreboding walls, all of that beauty had been hidden to her frightened young eyes. But those had been dark times, and she doubted there had been anything beautiful here then, nor any warmth or any love. An odd little frisson coursed through the young witch at her thoughts. The bright colours and freshness that now surrounded her were in stark contrast to the dark austerity she had once connected with the manor. The harsh sounds of anger and screams of terror were now replaced with, the cheerful sounds of nature awaking from the darkness of the winter months. Happy birdsong, and the strange sounds of the extraordinarily beautiful white peacocks which roamed freely on the impeccably mowed lawns, strategically avoiding the unleashed dogs, who themselves barked and whined in carefree pleasure, drifted into the warm country air.

Hermione found the entire scenario almost impossible to equate in her mind to how it had once been. That all of this beauty, tranquillity and pleasure came from the man at her side, came with this house. So much darkness enshrouding so much light, so much pleasure hidden beneath such a fearful façade, funny how it was so easy to describe them both in such a similar vein. This could have been such a happy home, perhaps it was, once upon a time. The once upon a time put her in mind of some of the sprawling, epic, romantic novels her mother loved to read. They were from a very different era, again very much like this house, like this man.  The master of this house so very easy to see as one of those eponymous heroes, well now it was at least. _Once upon a time,_ he would have been very much the villain of the piece. A small smile lifted her lips, but wasn’t that after all how they all started out or were very much depicted, Edward Rochester, Fitzwilliam Darcy and even the dashing blockade runner Rhett Butler from one of her mother’s all-time favourite books. Admittedly, Lucius Malfoy’s past was quite possibly a lot shadier than all of them put together, but as he walked with his handsomely arrogant air, only he could wear, amidst the stunning landscaped gardens it was all too easy to think of, Thornfield Hall, Pemberley or Tara. Lucius suddenly stopped and turned towards Hermione.

“This is another first for…….” His words stopping as suddenly as his foot fall, a look of curiosity donning those handsome features.

“That is a rather _interesting_ smile you have on your face, what are you thinking about Hermione?”

Hermione’s brain rushed from the pages of classic literature or to be more precise romantic fiction, to the present. The ground beneath her feet no longer the red earth of Georgia, but the luscious green grass of Wiltshire. The glorious spring sunshine caught Lucius’ white, golden hair, it edged his striking, aristocratic face like a guilt frame. Behind him the pale, almost Baroque style of Pemberley was replaced by the darker more gothic walls of Malfoy Manor.

As always she didn’t want to, couldn’t lie to Lucius, she merely deflected her musings to the house rather than the man.

“Actually I was just thinking how beautiful it is here.” She gave Lucius a rueful smile, the surprise on his face evident.

“I know, not something I ever thought I would hear myself say. My mother used to love reading. She loved ro…classic, period novels.” Hermione chose her words very carefully, but she knew Lucius had noticed the change.

“There was always a large house somewhere at their centre, the manor reminded me of them, I was put in mind of Thornfield Hall, Pemberley, and her favourite Tara.” Remembering her mother always made Hermione smile, even if it was tinged with sadness, it never failed.

“Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice.” Came the swift response, Hermione couldn’t conceal her own pleasant surprise.

“The library here at the manor is extensive, it covers more than just magical writings, I think perhaps many would describe some Muggle writers as magical with their words. Although I have to confess the last name is not familiar to me.”

Caught off guard by Lucius’ knowledge of Muggle literature and writers, Hermione simply gazed at the dark wizard, realising that he was hoping she would perhaps enlighten him, she spoke once more.

“Not a classic in the same vein as the others, it’s from an American novel, Gone With The Wind, the house in the story, Tara was a plantation, it was as prominent as any of its characters.”

Lucius looked intrigued although Hermione couldn’t quite tell if it was out of genuine interest or just politeness. She could easily see the articulate and obviously well-read aristocrat enjoying Dickens, Shakespeare and quite possibly Austen and Bronte, she wasn’t however quite so sure how he would fair with Margaret Mitchell’s tale of the old south and its wilful southern belle. Her poker face when it came to Lucius Malfoy was visibly failing once more.

“Hmm the interesting smile, which became abject surprise at my knowledge of Muggle literature has veered towards trepidation, dare I say horror.”

Her consternation moved into laughter at Lucius’ quite accurate summation, it was lovely to actually talk to him about something so totally removed from everything else that was going on. Books and the love of them was something very close to Hermione’s heart and of course a subject on which she could hold her own, even with someone like Lucius Malfoy

“I could quite easily imagine someone of your upbringing ensconced in the library, enjoying, the odd _Muggle_ classic, but I really don’t think I can seem you embroiled in Gone With The Wind, I can’t see it being your book of choice”

Lucius viewed her sternly, his greys eyes twinkling with amusement, Hermione knew him well enough to know he wasn’t going to let this go, she was going to have to justify her somewhat stereotypical remark. Her brain raced, fortunately, because of her mother, she knew the book very well, the thought however of giving Lucius a _brief_ synopsis of the 1000 plus pages was going to be no mean feat, but she had a horrible feeling it was coming.

“So why wouldn’t this be my _book of choice?”_

Urgh there it was, she had left herself wide open to the question, perhaps she could put him off.

“Well sexist as it may seem, books are written with a certain audience in mind, I definitely think this one was directed at a female audience, despite the backdrop of war.”

She really should not have added the last five words, telling him it was a girly book might have done the trick, changed the subject, now it appeared he was more intrigued than ever.

“Many, as you call them, classic Muggle books have been written against the backdrop of war, I might enjoy this one.”

Kauno and Isa bounded back up to them, presumably wondering why their two human companions had stopped. Lucius and Hermione both took the hint and continued to walk as they talked.  This time Lucius extended his arm, without a thought Hermione took it.

“That is very true” Hermione was finding it a little difficult to back up her statement, no that wasn’t strictly true, Hermione knew exactly why she felt the book would not be something Lucius would enjoy, she was just finding it a little difficult to tell him that.

“It’s just this story revolves around a young, very strong willed woman. She loses her home and her parents to the war or the results of it and vows not to be defeated ever again.”

Lucius stopped once more, and looked at Hermione, this time it was he who had the interesting smile pinned to his lips.

“This strong willed young heroine sounds a little familiar.”

Her laughter was a little louder this time, peppering her words as she spoke: “Now I actually wish you had read it, other than being female and strong willed, that’s about all Scarlett O Hara and I have in common.” Parts of the long since read book, rushed into Hermione’s mind, remembering some of the antics of the feisty southern belle, killing to protect those she loved, fighting fearlessly for what she believed in. Perhaps they had more in common than Hermione was willing to admit.

“And what of the hero in this story of yours?” Lucius voice broke through her thoughts, his eyes still lit by that very mischievous twinkle.

Whilst wrapped up in the characters and pages of Margaret Mitchell, it was Jane Austen’s words which she found drifting into her mind, Lucius seeming excessively diverted by their discussion.

“Is he perhaps an enlisted man, a war hero?”

Hermione gave Lucius and overly bright smile, and once more continued to walk. A thousand plus pages of the American Civil War had seemed like a tall order, how did you even begin to try and explain Rhett Butler to Lucius Malfoy? But then again perhaps they had a little more in common than it at first appeared, a wry twinkle lit Hermione’s warm brown eyes.

“Yes, he did enlist, eventually, and came out somewhat of a hero, a Captain on the losing side. He is none too popular with his own family and is a bit of a blaggard initially in terms of the society he inhabits, but he comes good in the end.”

If Lucius saw any similarities of his own he wasn’t drawn, his face remaining amused, if a little unreadable.

“Of course, the proverbial happy ending.”

They had reached the walled garden and Hermione, preceded Lucius up the three small stone steps, his hand remained at her elbow guiding her safely to the top.

“Well no not exactly.” She cast her mind back to the book and the first time she herself had read it, how disappointed and annoyed she had been.

“Even my mother used to say the same, it’s one of those books every time you read it, and she read it many times. You hope it will end differently, Rhett is fascinated by Scarlett from their very first meeting, but eventually he leaves her believing she does not care for him.”

“And all of this whilst there is a war going on, I see why you would say this was perhaps a more feminine read”

Hermione shook her head, laughter once more permeating the air as she walked over to one of the pretty garden seats. It hadn’t been quite what she had meant, but it seemed to be getting her off the hook. Not wishing to ensnare herself further once more, she nodded at Lucius.

“Indeed and a few other things besides, all very girly.”

Lucius stood before Hermione, his tall broad frame, casting her in a shadow from the spring sunshine. It really was lovely to talk to him about everyday things, his own demeanour seemed relaxed and at ease.

“Before we totally digressed from fictional houses and tales of the old south, you were going to say something to me, you said, _this was another first…..”_

Hermione stopped, looking expectantly at Lucius. He gestured around him as Kauno and Isa once more came to his heel.

“I have lived in the house all of my life, I have walked in the grounds with dogs at my feet since I could walk.” He paused his voice becoming slightly distant. “But it is something I always did alone, something I never shared with anyone else, I savoured the solitude.” His grey eyes fell on the young woman seated before him. “Today I wanted the solitude but I wanted to share it, with you.”

Lucius frowned at his own words. “That really doesn’t make any sense at all, quite possibly straight from the pages of those novels we were just talking about, flowery words making little sense, but being deemed classics.”

Strangely, Hermione knew exactly what Lucius meant, even if his words where totally contradictory and more than worthy of any Austen novel.

“It does make sense or at least it does to me.” Hermione felt a small flush creep over her face, as Lucius nodded.

She wanted Lucius to talk to her, but sometimes there was really no need, finding herself inexplicably just understanding him.  Her mind flitted back to the previous afternoon, when they had been in another part of the garden, the conversation so very different from now, but this was good too, it gave her a very different insight into a man, that it occurred to her nobody really knew. It was good to talk of things that weren’t connected to the darkness of the past, of Azkaban, or of the Dark Lord. She wanted to hear those things for herself, for no other reason than she just wanted to get to know him.

“Do you still like to read Hermione. He asked suddenly.

“I remember Draco once telling me, you were quite the swot at school and always had your nose buried in a book.”

Hermione could all but hear that conversation between father and son, and she knew at the time it would have been said in a less that complimentary tone.

“I can here Draco’s delightfully informative tone now.” She smiled at the knowing raise in Lucius’ brow.

“I do very much so, anything from something that will help me gain knowledge to a trashy pot boiler.” The dark blonde brow rose a little further at her very Muggle expression.

“Not in your Jane Eyre league or Pride and Prejudice, usually something not particularly well written, but a wonderful piece of escapism, which after a tough day is often much needed.”

“Perhaps I should add Gone With The Wind and a few of your _trashy pot boilers_ to the library here.”

An odd little moment passed between them, Lucius continued to speak.

“If you have any rough days whilst you are here, you could escape to the library.”

Hermione appreciated the sentiment behind his offer, but hoped that there wouldn’t be too many tough days whilst she was here, or any need to escape. Nonetheless she was amused at the thought of her mother’s favourite book and the odd Mills and Boon stashed amongst the array of what she knew would be, classics and very expensive magical reference books in the manor library.

Trying to avoid the odd little moment that still hung in the air, Hermione rose to her feet.

“Well in that case Lucius, you really need to show me where it is, just in case any escaping is required.” Courteous as ever Lucius extended his arm.

“Knowing what a bibliophile you are, it would be my absolute pleasure.”

Again, the young witch took it without a second thought, the idea of all those glorious books, almost as heady as Lucius’ proximity and the all too easy state they seemed to have fallen into.

Everything had changed.


	66. Que Sera Sera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wonder what the library at Malfoy Manor is like............

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Housekeeping as always includes thanks and apologies. So glad you are enjoying this it warms my heart to read your lovely comments.

 

Lucius Malfoy was developing an uncanny knack of transporting Hermione back in time, metaphorically speaking that was. Usually it was a look or a tone of voice which made her feel like she was twelve years old once more. As she stepped into the library at Malfoy Manor, Hermione Granger was catapulted back a further year, to the day she first set foot in the Hogwarts library. Every one of her senses on keen alert.  Her eyes feasting on the array of volumes which reached the ceiling, row upon row of coloured spines, embossed with silver and gold leaf. Her nose savouring the glorious scent which only came from the musky pages of a well-thumbed book, or the pristine crispness of new ones. She could almost taste the knowledge contained between their covers. Her eager fingers reverently tracing leather and cloth as she ran them across the titles of some exceptional and very rare books.

Amidst her revelry, a small smile lifted her lips as she imagined her cheap Muggle _pot boilers_ nestling amongst such illustrious wizarding titles. Part of her didn’t want there to be any rough days whilst she was here, but another part of her relished the thought of losing herself in this room for a few hours, it would be utter bliss.

As her fingers moved across more and more familiar authors and their renowned works, her smile just grew and grew, her brown eyes widening in almost childlike delight. She envied Draco growing up in a house which boasted such literary delights and such a wondrous array of books, although she knew only two well that the younger Malfoy would not have appreciated a single page. The only time she ever saw Draco in the Hogwarts library was if he was up for making mischief and trying to wangle his way into the restricted section.

A chink of sunlight slipped from behind a wispy cloud, it flooded the room with a beautiful natural light, just perfect for reading, and her eyes were drawn to a large beautifully polished wooden table. A lot of thought had gone into how this room was laid out, where chairs were placed to maximise the light and enjoy the warmth of the sun, also not too far from yet another fireplace, so you could curl up in one of those large chairs during the colder months. At certain times of the day during the various seasons some places enjoyed more light than others, the carefully placed table and chairs reflected that to. She noticed two books on the table, one of which was open, the sun highlighted an exquisitely drawn map and Hermione moved to take a closer look. It was a very rare edition of Wizarding England, detailing some of the oldest wizarding families and their heritage. She leaned over the open pages studying the intricately detailed chart closer, realising it was Wiltshire, Malfoy Manor to be precise.

Lucius swallowed hard, he had been observing the young witch intently, his ever-watchful grey eyes taking in her every reaction, her every move.  Never had he seen such joy reflected in someone’s face when entering this room before. It stirred a very strange emotion in the dark wizard, and a now all too familiar one, he shifted a little uncomfortably, chiding himself for such improper thoughts.  His body was becoming all too easily aroused by the young woman in his home. His mind enjoying her sharp brain with equal delight, both were becoming all too complacent with her presence. Those grey eyes of his had slowly drifted from her delighted face, to the slender fingers which trailed over the pages beneath them, those fingers which had trailed with equal enjoyment over his body. He took a deep quivering breath as she bent across the table, crouching low over the open volume, intrigued by something between its pages, just as intrigued as he was with her. Her slender, but curvaceous feminine body assailing his senses, how ridiculous was that. She was just reading.  But her joy touched him in so many ways, as did her body, Lucius took a step back. She had said many things to him, encouraged him in many ways, but Lucius was still unsure of himself and of his boundaries. He had kissed her, for no reason, other than the pure joy of doing so, one of those instincts she had mentioned, but one that he had long since buried under propriety. She had said she would sleep in his bed, oddly it made him more reticent, something still held him back.

“Is this what the area was like before the Manor was completed?” The young witch was totally enthralled.

She turned towards Lucius, one finger still firmly planted in the book.  Hermione missed very little, especially as she was discovering, when it came to the former Death Eater, the fact that Lucius had moved, but not closer, and had a rather awkward look on his face confused her. He was looking at her, but clearly her words had not been heard, realising where his eye line had drifted, Hermione concealed a smile, returning her concentration to the book, she repeated her words, louder this time, ensuring she had his full attention and that he would have no option but to join her. She injected a little surprise into her voice, coupled with curiosity, knowing he would want to quench her thirst for knowledge.

“Lucius is this what the area around here was like before the manor was completed?”

Lucius reigned in his errant thoughts, the sound of his name and Hermione’s question cutting through them. All be it a little awkwardly he moved towards the book, the table, and towards Hermione. He remained a little distance away from her, his height and the fact she was still partly bent over, allowing him to view the open book from a little way behind her.

Glancing over her shoulder, he followed the direction of her finger: “Yes, it is, there was a lot more, simple countryside then, it was before the gardens were landscaped.” His voice sounded a little husky and Hermione didn’t miss it.

She had the distinct feeling the large wooden table in this room, had sent a similar thought dancing through Lucius Malfoy’s brain to the one that had nudged her own subconscious in the kitchen.  If that was the case, that this had even entered Lucius head, was a little breakthrough in its own right; getting him to act on it, step outside those oh so proper parameters might be a lot more difficult. Again, Hermione was reliant on some feminine whiles that she didn’t get to use very often and were more than a little rusty, if not non-existent.

Instantly she scolded herself at the thought, jumping Lucius Malfoy’s bones at every given opportunity was not her intention, or indeed what she was here for. The little devil clearly had other ideas as did her traitorous body, which was already more than well aware of his proximity and positively singing at the thought.

“Obviously, it is quite old, but it’s so beautifully detailed. And what about here?” Hermione straightened, taking a small step back and brushing softly against the dark wizard, the sharp intake of breath and rather edgy movement told her she and Lucius had indeed, had very similar trains of thought.  She bit back a further smile, working hard on her poker face.

“Where?” Lucius tried to circumnavigate her to see what she was pointing at.

Sensing his sidestep, Hermione all but moved with him, the thoughts that were clearly dancing across both of their minds, were neatly forming into a nice little rumba of their own.

“Just here, I can’t quite work out where this is in relation to the manor now.”

Surreptitiously she moved a fraction closer to him, capturing his attention with her question and pointy finger.

Lucius took another steadying breath, trying his best to concentrate on Hermione’s question and not be distracted by her sweet scent or her body almost touching his. She had gathered her hair in her hand so as not to obscure his view of the map, holding it firmly against one shoulder, it bared her silky white neck to him. As he leaned closer to see exactly where she was indicating, he couldn’t help himself, his lips brushing against the delicate, pale flesh. He wasn’t entirely sure what he expected, recoil? He very much doubted that, not any more. Surprise perhaps? The only surprise however was his own, as her body pressed closer against his and a gentle murmur of appreciation slipped from her mouth.  The soft encouraging sound, brought Lucius hands up to the tops of Hermione’s arms, he doubted he needed to hold her there, he simply wanted to touch her. His lips continued to caress the silky softness of where her shoulder joined her neck, it was a simple but exquisitely erotic sensation that seeped into Lucius’ body, gently coursing through his blood and heating every nerve ending. Gentle coursing became a surge of forcefulness, one which Lucius fought with, whatever Hermione had told him, had assured him was alright, his mind still duelled silently with his body.

Despite the passion rising in her own body, Hermione could sense that ever present doubt within the him, anything that fell outside what he perhaps considered the realms of _normal,_ seemed to spark those feelings. Enough had been said for one morning, she leaned against Lucius, feeling the power and warmth in his strong frame, she would let her body speak for her. It all but melded against him, the hardness of his body a strong contrast to the soft caress of the lips which brushed her skin.  She released the wavy darkness of her own hair, allowing her fingers to slip into the silky paleness of his, which spilled over her shoulder. A heavy sigh fell from Lucius lips as they tangled themselves amid the golden strands.  As her hands, had moved upwards, Lucius’s hands had slipped from her upper arms, initially coming to rest upon her slender hips, almost pinioning her against him. Now, slowly they began to move of their own accord, across the flat planes of her stomach, over her ribs and up towards the pert breasts which now strained against the frustratingly constricting fabric of her clothing.

Lucius body pulsed against her, through his own restrictive clothing, he felt the gentle rounded swell of her bum, his arousal aching for more intimate contact.  His hands slipped beneath the clothing she wore, the soft flesh of her midriff against his fingers, it fluttered to his touch, the soft flesh of her neck still joyous beneath his lips. His large hands gently cupped her breasts, Hermione hadn’t quite replaced _all_ of the clothes she had been wearing the previous day, her underwear still discarded someone upstairs on the floor of her bedroom.  Her bare breasts spilled into his palms, both nipples responding simultaneously to his assiduous touch. She all but ached for more, chewing on her bottom lip to censure any words, she would only allow her body to speak for her. A pebbled peak all but screamed in pleasure as it was rolled between his thumb and forefinger. Hermione’s body had been gently simmering at his tentative touch, as it became more assured, it positively ignited, sending sweet pleasure flashing through her body, leaving in its wake a burning heat that she had never experienced before.

Lucius found his mind was losing the battle with his body, every reaction from her, every change in her breathing, in the silent room, another victory for skin and bone. Her silky responsive flesh, spoke to his in a language his brain seemed unable to understand. His body however accepted and revelled in her reactions, his brain could only be carried along with it and bow to the utter pleasure it was being mystified with. He found that mystery, that curiosity driving his body even harder, the two no longer fighting but working together for the sake of pleasure. A very dominant and primal instinct began to take over his brain, one it couldn’t or wouldn’t fight.

Hermione’s desire continued to mount, not just with his touch, but with what was behind it, what was driving it, driving him.  Her mind was once more split in two but this time for very different reasons. One hand softly kneaded her pliant flesh, his smooth hands gently caressing her full breast, whilst the fingers on the other constricted and squeezed the tightly budded nipple of the other, the exquisite balance between pleasure and pain, pushing her to the limit.  She squirmed against the dark wizard, her arse rubbing harshly, impatiently against his potent arousal. Through the haze of her own passion, a very dark, but naughty thought suddenly danced seductively across her mind, wondering how the Lucius Malfoy of old might have handled this situation? He might have been constrained by duty, by breeding, but he was underneath, that dark and very powerful man, there must have been a time when……

“Mmmm” The slightly incoherent, thankfully not exactly a word, slipped from her mouth as Lucius continued his deliciously slow onslaught of pleasure.

Had the situation been different, had Lucius mind been in a difference space, she might have been tempted to entice him to that darker place, but it was a time and a place she didn’t want him regressing back to. A very small, very quiet, professional voice whispered in her ear, reminding Hermione, that at some point she would have to take Lucius back to some darker times, and some much darker places, perhaps it was _better_ to do it here, where she had full control. Full control of Lucius Malfoy, was there such a thing, she found her own quiet, little voice asking?   There was really only one way to find out.  

With the small, quiet, professional voice, came another reminder. Distraction. Oh, not the one which side tracked the young witch from her reasons for being here. The kind which can be used to take your mind away from another stronger emotion.  Hermione had used this tactic with Lucius several times already, not in an overtly sexual way, sometimes just with the very simplest of touches of her hand, to his, or to his face or his leg. It always seemed to have the desired effect, the action so beguiling, alien even to him that she immediately seized his attention. However, even with her limited experience, Hermione knew she could not allow the distractions to become a crutch, Lucius had to meet and face his anxieties, his fear and his memories head on and not be distracted from them all the time. It was the only way he could conquer and overcome them……She hoped that what she was allowing to happen, encouraging Lucius down this intimate yet darker path would encapsulate this………. she truly hoped so.

He had already told her he was frightened of what he might do, they had talked about it, but without her permission, without her saying it was alright Lucius had never truly let himself go. It might not have been very long, but Hermione felt a lot more confident in her own ability to be able to handle the outcome. She also knew a lot more about the man himself. She was leading him down, quite possibly a dangerous path, but it was on her terms and again it was on that extremely personal level.

Hermione had silently promised herself she wouldn’t speak, she would allow her body to guide Lucius, her soft gentle moans to induce him. Her own mind was slowly slipping into the fog of passion. She needed to take Lucius along with her, in some ways she needed him to be drunk on it, forgetting all his inhibitions, quite simply, Hermione needed him not to think at all, just to simply go with his desires, wherever they might take him, whatever they might be. She was prepared for that, but she wasn’t sure he was, could she really take him beyond rational thought, beyond any thought?  Hermione a felt a slight hesitation in his touch, instinctively her fingers laced tighter into his hair, she was the one who was distracted, ironically by her own thoughts of Lucius, she put her own rational thoughts to one side, her own thoughts of any kind to one side……. que sera sera.


	67. Power, Domination & Control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you my wonderful readers, both old and new for more lovely words of praise and encouragement. Usual apologies for mistakes etc, I make no apologies for anything else, and feel this is a good place to say again, adult readers only please...on that note you can guess what's coming... pardon the pun...enjoy...

Lucius Malfoy had enjoyed both power and control in the past, with it came a certain amount of domination, it had felt nothing like this. That power had been deep rooted in fear, that control had come from the Malfoy name, that domination had been driven by supremacy. This sensation of power came from undiluted desire, this feeling of control came from a knowledge of the pleasure that it would not only bring, but that he could impart. Something instinctively told Lucius Malfoy that domination in this situation was all about that pleasure and desire.

Whilst his brain still tried to adjust to these new interpretations of old feelings, his body had no such qualms.  Fear trod tentatively along his spine, trying to understand the difference, but passion tore through his blood like wildfire.  The almost incoherent sounds that tumbled from Hermione’s lips spoke that foreign language that his brain was struggling to understand but his body spoke fluently.  His mind was still constrained and dictated to by the darkness and the chains of the past, but his body was enjoying its new-found freedom. Just like Hermione herself, her body reached and touched him on a very different level, that nothing and no one had before.

It was a very different level that Lucius mind was delving to right now, being dragged there by his painfully aroused body, the erotic sounds of appreciation drifting from the young witch, and the sensually responsive movements that she made against his touches.  The first time they had been together the dark wizard had been afraid of his reactions to Hermione, a small part of him still was, but she had openly encouraged him to go with his instincts, in every way, but verbally, she was doing so now.  A tiny portion of his brain was stepping from the past, was joining his body in the pursuit of pleasure. Lucius knew Hermione well enough to know, if she was not happy or wanted him to stop she would say so, if by some awful chance words were not enough, he was also more than well aware that the brightest witch of her age, was more than capable of some pretty strong wandless magic. For once, Lucius allowed his well-disciplined mind the same freedom as his body.

Hermione inhaled deeply, savouring the intriguing aroma of Lucius Malfoy. The usual intoxicating tones of his spicy cologne, were suffused with the scent uniquely of him, a minute waft of apprehension was overpowered with the strong heady smell of desire. It wasn’t the subtle hint she had enjoyed before, there was something very carnal about it, about him. As determined as ever not to speak, Hermione simply continued with her moans and murmurs of appreciation at his touch, moving against him, into him, encouraging him every way she could without uttering a single word.

Lucius moved against Hermione, her back flush against him, as his hands continued to roam languorously over her body, from time to time the muffled sounds that slipped from her lips increased, as his palm splayed against her midriff and slowly moved down, one of those muffled sounds became a very distinct and very guttural groan of pleasure. The young witch moved against the hand bestowing the pleasure, taking the dark wizard with her, catching him slightly off guard she fell forwards across the large table, Lucius’ weight pinning her against the hard wood. She felt the full force of his body, and the potent heat of his desire for her. She fully expected that breeding of his to take over, it didn’t, not this time.  The moan that countered her own was equally visceral and rightly or wrongly she hoped that Lucius would go with his raw desire.

Until Lucius found himself all but sprawled across the table, Hermione’s delicious body pinned both beneath and against him, he might have been able to control his actions, and his reactions, but not now. What he wanted to do, appeared very dark to him, would have seemed like assault to Narcissa, but the responsive body beneath him, against him, didn’t struggle, the sounds remained pleasured, not frightened in any way. A primitive need raced through Lucius, a need once more for power, control and domination, but in a way, that he had never dared enjoy before. 

Hermione’s unruly mass of hair was still pulled to one side, the beautiful white flesh of her neck and shoulder still bared to him, his tongue connected with it first, his own long blonde locks tumbling forward onto her exposed skin, he traced the silky flesh that his lips had touched just moments before.  The natural progression, was his teeth, gently grazing and nipping at the invitingly soft skin, the temptation was too great to resist and they sank into the flesh, causing Hermione to gasp, his brain screamed at him to stop, he could have hurt her, crossed a line. The gasp was oddly familiar, like spoken words of reassurance. He remembered the same sound from that first night in the hotel, through the blurred haze of passion he remembered the marks he had left on her body, the horror and repulsion he had felt the following day. He also remembered the anger, her anger, at his horror and repulsion, his throbbing body told his nervous brain, it was alright.  

Hermione was caught between the hard, unforgiving wood of the large table and himself, she was effectively trapped, she could not escape, not that it appeared she wanted to, but that really wasn’t the point.  The knowledge sent a burning heat pulsating through him, the darker side of Lucius Malfoy came well and truly alive, but in an extraordinarily sensual way.  Her small frame was pinned against the table, there was barely a part of them that wasn’t touching in some way.  When Lucius moved, Hermione moved with him, he could feel every glorious, feminine curve, loving the power he lorded over her without hardly doing a thing, well save feasting like a starving man, on her neck.  Her musky aroused scent filled his nostrils, tickling and evoking any nerve that wasn’t already alive with sensation.  In that second, he wanted Hermione more than he had ever done, with a desperate urgency that once again sent a wave of fear racing neck and neck alongside his need.  He heard himself murmur her name, it was almost a breathy plea for something, for what he had no idea. With the soft “mmm” that came in response, what his brain failed to comprehend, but his body instinctively understood. 

An impatient, almost frustrated utterance divested Hermione of her clothing, naked beneath him, it sent another surge of power through the dark wizard, this time it came with a rush of guilt that he was perhaps taking out his frustrations, his anger, of the day on her, in this most base of ways. The pale flesh which writhed seductively against him, assuaged him of any such thoughts, pulling him back headlong into that very primal need he felt. He wanted to feel that soft pale flesh against his own and with same briefest of utterances, vanished his own clothing, leaving them both naked across the table. His large hand remained the only thing between Hermione and unforgiving oak, her full weight wasn’t entirely against it, and his fingers continued to moved dextrously against her warm flesh, the merest of touches bringing with them more untold pleasure, drawing her harder towards him, Lucius’ body throbbed against her.

Hermione could feel a desperate sense of urgency emanating from Lucius, but for all of that, he actually seemed in no hurry.  His teeth and his mouth continued to suck and nip erotically at the skin on her neck and shoulder, pulling every bit of her flesh closer to him. His soft palm continued its warm sensual movement across her stomach, his long fingers occasionally brushing against the swollen mounds of her breasts.  His erection nestled neatly against her arse as he pulled her against him, hot wet need pooled between her legs and it took every inch of will power Hermione possessed not cry out and beg Lucius to fuck her. Through her desire a small wicked smile curved her mouth, just the thought sent a fresh wave of devilish passion flooding through her and she groaned and ground into his touch once more. Hermione heard Lucius, what she could only describe as snarl against her, she forgot the damaged and broken man she had often seen over the couple of weeks or so, the sinister foreboding man she knew of old, invading her mind……Oh what it would have been like to have been _taken_ by a man like that; Hermione reminded herself, Lucius Malfoy was in many respects still very much a man like that, a force to be reckoned with, forever a very dark wizard, who after all he had endured and suffered might be an even darker man. Should she really be quite so thrilled by that prospect? Her body answered that unspoken question for her, craving more of him.

Power, domination and control, continued to swim around in Lucius’ brain, they were diluted with pleasure, a pleasure he wanted to increase. He moved against the young witch beneath him, raising himself from her, the hand which had been caressing her stomach, traced the length of her spine as she remained invitingly bent over the table. He stroked the top of her perfectly rounded arse, moving back slightly he saw the tip of his own erect body just touching her. Before him like a glorious feast,  he touched her with an unabashed gentility and reverence, but a part of him wanted to drive into her with wild abandonment.

He honestly didn’t understand his own conflicted emotions or what drove them, the pleasure of sex of course Lucius Malfoy had enjoyed from a very early age, however, everything that came with Hermione Granger, and he meant everything, was all very new to him.  She drew him so easily from those awful places, those very dark recesses of his mind, but she also drew him into other dark places, or places he thought, had been made to believe were dark, but perhaps they weren’t after all. Like many of the beliefs he’d had, been brought up to think were right, maybe there weren’t so right after all.  

Pleasure began to take full control and guided Lucius sense of domination and power. His pale grey eyes drifted over Hermione, and every solid inch of his body throbbed mercilessly.  His fingers drifted over the flawless pale skin of her back, it quivered to his touch, he noticed the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, slightly quicker than usual. Her hair still to one side and drawn from her face, fanned across the books on the table, in profile her cheeks were rosy with desire and perhaps from the less than ceremonious position she found herself in. A wicked smiled lifted Lucius mouth, hers was slightly parted, and he longed to cover it with his own.  In a swift movement, his fingers were entwined almost viciously in her hair, tugging it further across the table so her flushed face had no option but to look at him. His eyes fell once more to that full mouth, hypnotically drawn towards it, he kissed her with a ferocity as if his life depended on it. Under the onslaught of his mouth and his shift in position, Lucius felt Hermione move, taking full advantage he pushed her legs apart. She remained undistracted, her mouth inviting his kiss with equal need, her body arching back, upwards to meet his.  One hand supported himself on the table so as not to crush her, the other drifted slowly up one of the bare legs spread against him, his inquisitive fingers found their grail, her juices spilling onto his searching fingers, Lucius groaned against her mouth as they delved deeper, relishing her desire for him, driven now by an overwhelming sense of need and frustration.  Just as his fingers had slipped so easily into her so did his cock, stilling instantly at the glorious sensation that engulfed him, his own hand had guided him, but now there was no need, she took him willingly, and with ease, pulling him into her wet feminine heat.  He felt her shift once more, raising herself against his intrusion, he eased up into her. As he sheathed himself deep within her, his mouth released hers, allowing himself to savour the moment, robbed of breath and overwhelmed by sensation. Letting out a long hiss of breath, as he withdrew his body from hers, wet and warm, it caressed the length of his shaft, Lucius shuddered at the exquisite feeling, needing to feel it again he forced himself back hard into Hermione, burying himself to the hilt before enjoying that long slow withdrawal once more.  His mouth again connected with the softness of her shoulder, his teeth grazing the already marked flesh, against his ear, he could hear her pleasure, her passion, the marks he left didn’t matter, not this time. 

As her wet walls caressed his receding cock, the breath was all but ripped from his body and he groaned against the softness of her flesh, the pleasure he was surely teasing from her was reflected in the mews and moans that drifted to his own ears. His brain tried to tell him he was not thinking of Hermione, but only of himself, the sounds that fell from her, assured his body, he was very much thinking of her and she was enjoying every moment of it.  He loved those sounds, moving harder and faster to guarantee that he continued to hear them, that he continued to please her.

The angle they were both at ensured that they both hit every spot of joy completely, totally. The pleasure that was surging around in both of their bodies spilling into the silent room in a cacophony of moans, groans and garbled unintelligible words.

Hermione felt Lucius’ hand once more against her body, it moved from one breast to the other in a torturously erotic movement, grazing her belly and delving into the damp mass of curls, still lower, brushing the already highly sensitised bundle of nerves. His body buried deep inside her, as he all but touched himself as he moved in and out.  His warm breath fanned against her skin, his familiar scent inhabiting every sense, Hermione screamed at the intense pleasure that he lavished on her body. Her body fast being driven to that point of no return, there was no denying who was in control, Lucius powerful taut frame dominated her, his body completing her and pushing her to the heights of dizzying abandon, one she could not hold off from any longer. Still no words came from her mouth, just a louder scream, which dissolved into a wail of gripping, shaking gratification.

The was no doubting the scream was one of passion and not of fear, the joy it sent through Lucius body overshadowed even the arousal that he felt, his brain and his body both fully appreciating the sound, a sound that was dragging everything out of him. It drove him on harder and faster than anything had ever done before, his release crept up on him slowly, enjoying every gradual step that took him there, before it shoved him over the edge with a deliciously brutal ferocity. Pushing into her with a harshness that he did not try to contain, especially when her feminine walls clamped around him with equal severity. Her tightness around him, and her cries, Lucius exploded within her, his seed bursting from the constriction of her body, it slackened and tightened once more and just as he thought he was done, he spilled once more into her, until he was drained of everything, both physically and mentally. Gloriously so.

 


	68. Three Strikes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that it is a surprise, but then you are a smart lot, so maybe not.........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of lovely thanks for lots of lovely words, you are all too kind. Usual blah blah for errors whatever they may or may not be.......

 

 “You are still here.” His voice was a little sleepy, and his smile was lazy, but those beautiful grey eyes were bright and alert.

Hermione flushed at his words and the indolent smile, of course it wasn’t the first time she had woken up in Lucius Malfoy’s bed, it wasn’t the first time he had still been in it, it was however the first time he’d been awake. Simply waking up in a bed with the man, having shared only sleep was quite possibly more personal than anything else they had done, it was a very different line she had now crossed, and it was something very different Hermione now felt.

Following the unrestrained passion in the library and the events of the day, the previous night, after dinner, Hermione had as agreed and without a word, gone upstairs with Lucius Malfoy and quite literally slept in his bed.  

She had desperately tried to stifle a yawn as they had sat in front of the blazing fire in the dining room. Neither of them it appeared could be bothered to move that far. With the remnants of the wine which Lucius had opened to accompany their meal, they had sat, mostly in a companionable silence, what conversation there was, was light and general, they hadn’t picked over the bones of the day; with Hermione simply commenting on the meal and Lucius observing that the wine was not as good as he’d expected. Kauno and Isa had wandered into the room along with dinner, they had cast expectant eyes in their master’s direction a few times and had been duly rewarded with a scrap or two from his plate, Hermione had surreptitiously, so she thought, followed suit, the gesture earning her a warm indulgent smile from her companion. The two large hounds had beaten both of their human companions to the warmth of the fire before the meal was over, and were sleeping soundly.

The hypnotic sound and crackling heat from the grate, the ample meal, a much stronger wine than she was used to, and of course the stresses and exertions of the day, finally caught up with Hermione, and she found herself, envying the dogs their sleep. Her small hand raised to cover her mouth, but her somewhat watery eyes, failed to conceal her fatigue from the ever-watchful dark wizard and he had suggested they retire.  A little frisson of apprehension, coupled with excitement had trickled into Hermione’s blood. What seemed like an eternity ago, but was in fact only earlier in the day, Hermione had agreed to sleep in Lucius’ bed. That had been all there was to the conversation, what that meant, what it entailed, she truly hadn’t a clue, had given it, little or no thought. As they mounted the long staircase in the semi darkness, she wished she had given her acceptance, just a little bit of thought. The awkwardness she felt had slipped away as they reached the landing, Lucius had gently taken her hand, ensuring that she was turning left towards his room and not right towards her own.  The most bizarre thing of all was, as he had wandlessly propelled the door closed behind them and warded it, getting into Lucius Malfoy’s bed had seemed the most natural thing in the world, as did curling up against him and clearly drifting promptly off to sleep.  Waking up together, finding for the first time Lucius was still very much at her side, was to say the least a little unnerving. There was nothing professional about this whatsoever, and there was absolutely no way could she equate it to being so.

She smiled in response to Lucius’ words, and nodded her head slightly, his hand came up from beneath the bedding, brushing an errant strand, of what must be a wildly tangled mass of hair, from her flushed face.

“You look incr…….”

A loud crashing noise from downstairs, brought them both, fully into the present.  Lucius’s silver eyes clouded in consternation, a deep frown replacing that lazy smile.

Hermione assumed it must be one of the house elves, maybe an accident in the kitchen. The only other person it could be, was Draco, she found it hard to imagine he would have returned from placating his mother quite so quickly, or perhaps she had returned with her son. Although after yesterday she very much doubted even the former mistress of Malfoy Manor would be quite that brave, or that stupid.  Another loud clattering sound came from beneath them, it sounded as if someone were smashing things about deliberately.

The look on Lucius’ face was far from happy, either of the scenarios she envisaged was hardly going to put him in a good mood. She pitied the poor house elves if they had broken anything, and was not entirely sure Draco would escape his father’s wrath for a third time.  It was as if he’d used legilimency.

“Surely not a third time!”

Hermione wasn’t sure if it was better to suggest that perhaps one of the house elves could have had an accident or not. The very muffled, but distinct, sound of the younger Malfoy’s voice assured both occupants in the bed, yes it was indeed, the third morning in a row that he’d thwarted his father’s plans.

“It’s worse than having a toddler about the house again, having to get up and make sure they aren’t causing any damage, especially a magical one.”

Hermione laughed and flushed at the inference all at once. She imagined Draco as a naughty magical two-year-old, causing early morning havoc around the manor, tormenting the house elves, maybe even trying to ride his broomstick.  A similar thought about her own magical offspring, heated her face.

Lucius threw back the covers on the bed with frustration and impatience, he was certainly not amused, Draco Malfoy was no longer a terrible two, who needed supervision or discipline at the crack of dawn.

Hermione drew a very long, slow, steadying breath, watching an angry, agitated and completely naked Lucius Malfoy spring from a bed, was more than a little disconcerting and exceedingly hot. As her eyes followed his gloriously naked butt across the room, watching the muscles ripple in his powerful back and shoulders, she too cursed his son.

With that same agitated and angry wave of his hand, Lucius was cleansed and clothed. His tousled blonde hair as sleek as ever and neatly tethered with a thin strand of dark ribbon.

After the preceding two days, the young witch wasn’t sure she trusted Lucius to deal with his son sensibly, the circumstances and events of the previous two mornings, and the fact that he had unknowingly ruined yet another morning in bed certainly didn’t bode well.  Hermione also sprang from the bed, once again donning clothes from what seemed like an age ago. She doubted Draco was that observant, but wasn’t prepared to take any chances, a quick incantation, freshened her own clothing from the previous day and changed her sweater from navy blue to pale pink. Using the same charms as Lucius, she cleansed herself and secured her own hair from her face.

For some reason, she fully expected Lucius to object to her coming with him, he didn’t, just as the previous evening had seemed so very natural and easy, so did this, the dark wizard lifted the wards and expelled open the door to his bedroom, allowing Hermione to precede him from its confines.

As the pair descended the staircase the crashing about, got louder, and the ranting became more discernible, there was no denying it was Draco. Miffy was scuttling about in the hallway, her eyes were wider than ever and she was tugging pitifully on her huge ears. On the approach of her master, the eyes widened to the point of bursting and the tugging became even more frantic. Drawing level with the tiny distressed creature, Hermione instinctively crouched down to her, much as you would a small child and tried to pacify her.

“Miffy calm down, whatever, is it?”

Her big eyes flew up to the man at Hermione’s side, darting back to Hermione, she continued to pull viciously at her ears. Hermione’s hands gently grasped the elf’s narrow wrists.

“Miffy stop.” Her voice was gentle but firm and little elf stilled immediately.

Her voice was frightened and she spoke rapidly, all the time her eyes darting towards Lucius as if she were going to somehow be blamed for whatever was going on.

“It’s young master Draco.” Her saucer like blue eyes settled on Lucius, her wrists still restrained by Hermione, she took to bouncing from one foot to the other.

Hermione tightened her grip, drawing the elf’s attention back to her, the shuffling stopped and Miffy seemed to calm as she considered the young woman’s enquiring face.

“Yes Miffy, I think we have gathered that much, now where is Master Draco and what’s wrong with him?”

“He’s in Mistress Malfoy’s sitting room, he’s shouting, stomping about and breaking things. He arrived a little while ago. He yelled at Miffy and threw something at me.” The terrified little creature looked at Lucius, but with a further squeeze of her skinny wrists, returned her attention to Hermione.

“I don’t know what is wrong Miss Hermione.”

Hermione heard Lucius take an impatient breath behind her and himself shuffle. She released Miffy and rose, casting him a look, which clearly said enough. Even in the furore she couldn’t help but inwardly smile at the notion of asserting _so much_ control over the former Death Eater.

“It’s alright Miffy, we will look after Master Draco. Are you hurt?”

Miffy shook her head violently, clearly for someone to care about her wellbeing was unheard off, and even if she was hurt, she was hardly going to admit to the master of the house that his own son had harmed her in any way. With a reassuring smile from Hermione she quickly disapperated with a loud pop.

The young witch cast a sidelong glance at Lucius, he didn’t seem in the least bit concerned about the goings on behind the door which lead to his wife’s sitting room, could it really be anything worse than yesterday, she mused. His demeanour still exuded anger and agitation, although it was now laced with exasperation, and she was convinced it had more to do with yet another morning being disrupted and Draco’s third strike, than anything that might be wrong with his son.

Lucius raised his hand to open the door, but Hermione caught him by the sleeve.

“No Lucius, we don’t know what has upset Draco, bursting into the room might just anger or distress him even more.” She realised she was treading a very fine line here, telling Lucius what to do regarding his own son, but the professional finally reared its head in her and she took control of the situation, once again it appeared without any protestations.

She carefully turned the handle and pushed open the door to the room which she had come to know so well.  The bright, usually neat room was in utter disarray. Chairs upturned, ornaments broken, a picture of Draco and his mother was winging its way through the air, had it not been for a quick deflective spell from his father, it would have struck Hermione. The young witch looked from father to son, not sure at this moment in time which one was the most livid, it was a close call. The emotion on the elder Malfoy’s face was one of sheer fury, the one in Draco’s, was one she had seen many times before, oddly it was like looking into the face of his father. Behind the anger in these pale blue eyes was hurt. Knowing that Draco had gone after his mother yesterday, that hurt could only have come from one person, Narcissa Malfoy; Merlin alone only knew, what she had said or done to cause this kind of reaction from her son.

After the near miss with the picture, Hermione could all but feel Lucius’ rage emanating from his seething frame, it was only a matter of time before he vented it both verbally and quite possibly physically on Draco, she doubted he would restrain his temper so well a second time.  As another delicate object came crashing to the ground, this time shattering into a million pieces at Lucius’, well shod feet, he finally intervened.

“Draco…. enough.” Lucius’ forceful, clipped tones resonated above the breaking of yet more fragile china, and as if he’d been in some sort of fury induced trance, Draco stopped and look up. Just as Miffy had done, his wide blue eyes darted from his angry father, to the concerned woman at his side.  Unlike the small house elf, Draco refrained from tugging on his ears, but he clenched and unclenched the fists at his side in equal distress.

Hermione could see right through Draco’s anger, it was prevalent, but beneath it was a very deep hurt, more so than had been caused by his mother leaving, more so even than when he had come to her for help.  

Lucius felt Hermione touch him on the arm, it was a small innocuous gesture, but he’d come to know and understand this quite remarkable young women, very well in such a short space of time, the briefest of touches, spoke volumes. He censored any further words and desperately tried to curtail his anger. Ruining his third consecutive morning was one thing, behaving like this, trashing the manor was something else. But despite typical Malfoy tantrums from almost as soon as he would walk and talk, his son was not prone to outbursts like this, in fact usually if something really upset the boy, he became quiet and withdrawn, unless of course it was one Hermione Granger who had annoyed him. During his years at Hogwarts, Lucius had often seen his son regressing to childhood tantrums once more.

But now, as always of course, Hermione was right, and he remained silent. He watched as she carefully picked her way towards his son, though patches of shattered glass and fragmented china. Pain ripped through him as he watched Draco sink onto one of the chairs which remained upright, his hands running through his longer than usual hair, it was a despairingly chilling, and all too familiar action.

Draco’s stormy blue eyes, were fixed on his father, Hermione knew from both instinct and training, that exactly as before, he was not angry with Lucius, in fact, if she didn’t know better, the hurt Draco felt, was _for_ his father. Those same blue eyes fell shamefully to the floor, as instinctively as Hermione had grasped Miffy’s thin wrists, she reached out to Draco. Stopping before him she cradled his bent head against her stomach, running her hands gently and reassuringly over yet another blonde Malfoy head. He made no attempt to pull away, and she felt it shake from side to side against her, almost in disbelief, his words muffled by her body.  Needing to hear what he was saying, Hermione took a small step back, but not breaking her contact with Lucius’ son, and once more, just as she had done with Miffy, Hermione sank to her knees, bringing herself to the same level as Draco.  In her peripheral vision, she could just see his father, could just make out that any anger he had felt, had clearly turned to concern.

“Draco I’m sorry I couldn’t hear what you were saying.”

She’d seen a very different side to both Malfoy men, since they had become reacquainted, of course, _because_ of Draco, her main concern had always been for Lucius. She had honestly not expected to see Draco himself laid quite so bare to her, or that he would be the one in so much pain, she thought she had seen the extent of his anguish, or all that he would allow her to see, when he had pleaded for her help, but this……

Draco’s blue eyes glanced at his father once more, hurt and fear gripped his tense body, before anger once more began to surge through him. Sparkling with fury they came to look into the warm brown of the young witch he once hated, had once tormented and been so utterly vile to. Shame washed over him, averting his gaze from that genuine concern, and he found himself looking at the floor, at the shards of glass and chunks of broken china scattered about them.  Right at this moment he felt this once despised young woman was the only person he could really trust, even when they had been enemies, he could always trust Granger to give it to him straight, maybe that was why he felt as he did now, that had never really been any different.

He found it almost impossible to comprehend that Hermione Granger was the one offering him consolation, giving him comfort, was the one trying to help his father. It should have been his mother, but as it transpired, she was actually the cause of everything.  Drawing his sad, reflective gaze, once more, from the sea of glistening glass fragments and smashed fine bone china, he looked deep into Hermione Granger’s caring face. He felt her hands still against his hair, they dropped to his sagging shoulders and squeezed them reassuringly, Draco glanced briefly at his father, dread replaced his anger, but nothing could lessen the hurt he felt. He tried to speak, his mouth was parched and the words stuck in his throat. It was a similar scenario to a couple of days earlier, except now things were very different. Believing what he had heard was hard enough, to say the words out loud to someone else, was nigh on impossible and especially to his father. As he thought of his father, uncharacteristic tears stung his eyes, his throat ached, perhaps he should say nothing.  The scene of devastation that surrounded them, the fact that both his father and Hermione had been party to it, meant it was far too late for that consideration, and better to do it whilst Granger was here. He looked up into her face finally finding the words that had eluded him, or that he simply hadn’t wanted to utter or believe.

“It was mother.” His throat constricted still tighter as his anger rose once more.

“It was mother, she gave Rita Skeeter the lies for the Prophet to print.”


	69. Hell Hath No Fury.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too many shocked readers, but more kind words, kudos and comments, so I must be doing something right. My grateful thanks as always for those. Apologies for everything else .........

 

_“Could it really be anything worse than yesterday?”_   Hermione had mused before entering this room a few minutes ago, the words resonated around in her head, taunting her, clearly it could, and indeed it was, just about as bad as it could get. Her head spun as if she had just spotted the golden snitch, whipping from the young, pained man before her, to the ominous figure of his father standing a few feet away.

Instead of seeing the full blown, uncontrollable anger she expected, Lucius Malfoy’s face was bathed in an oddly knowing look, one of resignation even.  From his past reactions, she was in no doubt that he had not been aware of the fact imparted by his son. But the look on his finely chiselled features was completely different to the spontaneous, seething anger she had witnessed on the previous two mornings. His eyes still glittered with silvery intent, but this time, unlike on those previous two mornings, they softened considerably as they fell once more, upon his clearly distressed son.  Whilst his natural instinct as a father, might have been to go to Draco, to comfort him in some way, Hermione, still saw those years of breeding holding him back, and it was she who remained the one to offer what small consolation she could to Lucius’ offspring.

Hermione heard the same knowing, resignation in Lucius’ quiet, restrained tones as he spoke.

“But of course, she did.”

Both Hermione and Draco’s gazes turned towards the dark commanding figure, who remained oddly unmoved, and remarkably undemonstrative by what he had heard. His voice now laced with mocking bitterness.

“Rita Skeeter is many despicable things, one thing she is not, is a fool.” Hermione couldn’t fail to note the contempt in Lucius’ voice as he mentioned the loathsome reporter’s name.

“The Malfoy name might not instil the fear it once did, or carry the same weight, but even she would not be stupid enough to publish a story about me or my family, without any foundation, or without some sort of sanction.” The bitterness became outright disdain.

Hermione could see Lucius’ logic, she felt Draco shake beneath the hands which still rested on his tense, hunched shoulders, her brown eyes now fell on him. The hurt and anger that had blazed in his clear blue eyes, was replaced with incomprehension, but his face seemed to flood with relief. Clearly, she had been right, the emotions she had seen in his face, were _for_ his father. Oh, there was no doubt, he was furious with Narcissa, and of course was deeply hurt by her actions, but both of those powerful feelings had been borne of a fear as to what they might do to his father, what in fact they had already done. However, Lucius’ reaction to his revelation obviously confused Draco, but he seemed genuinely, relieved none the less. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if Lucius would have responded like this a few days ago, recalling only too well, his reaction to the story itself, was enough to tell her the answer to that.  

Much as she hated to admit it, Hermione understood Rita Skeeter’s actions, not that Hermione wanted to defend the dreadful reporter in any way, or Merlin forbid, condone her actions, but she could hardly blame her for writing and printing a story, that she would consider a scoop none the less, which appeared to have come straight from the horse’s mouth and the more hateful and vindictive the story, the more enjoyment the so-called journalist would have derived from it, and of course added her own poisonous spin to.  What Hermione couldn’t understand at any cost were, Narcissa Malfoy’s actions.  Admittedly, she wasn’t in possession of all the facts, what had transpired between husband and wife, all she had were Lucius’ assurances, but even so. Narcissa might have wanted to hurt Lucius, get back at him for whatever reasons, but surely, she had to realise that by hurting him in that way, she would also be hurting her own son.  It was Draco who hit on that, asking her unspoken question, finally finding his voice again, this time to address his father directly.

“But I don’t understand, why would she do that to you?”

Hermione had always considered Draco Malfoy a spoilt child, a selfish young man, and until a few short weeks ago, with good reason. In the last few weeks she’d had to gradually let go of that, hearing his concern for father, asking her, of all people for help and now in his words to Lucius, there was no thought for himself, simply that sincere worry, she had seen quite a bit of recently. She noticed a glimmer of surprise in his father’s face as well, concern for him, was clearly something he wasn’t used to receiving from his only child.  It would appear that both father and son were having similar thoughts to Hermione, this time it was Lucius’ answer which broached the other part of her unspoken question.

“In truth Draco, I am not surprised that your mother would wish to hurt and slander me in this way, whilst I did none of the things which found their way into print, I did not treat her as well as I should have.” His pale grey eyes glanced briefly at Hermione, her slim hands rested reassuringly on his son’s shoulders, he knew exactly how comforting that simple gesture felt, and he was inordinately grateful that she was here in this house.

“What, I cannot understand is how your mother could hurt you in this way. She is not a stupid woman by any stretch of the imagination, she would know hurting me, would in turn hurt or at least reflect upon you in some way. I ….”

The dark wizard was genuinely at a loss to understand how his wife could have done such a thing, which by its very intent would hurt Draco. Even if not the article itself, but by finding out his own mother had resorted to such public vitriol against a man she once loved.

Hermione was a little taken aback, but, despite the way it had come about, was delighted by Lucius’ brutal honesty with Draco, whether he realised it or not he was opening up to his son, in a way that until now he had only done with her.

The young witch had her own thoughts on the subject as to why Narcissa Malfoy had acted as she had, but it was not her place to voice those opinions. She suddenly became aware that two sets of clear, penetrating Malfoy eyes had fallen upon her. Draco was no longer looking painfully at his father, his bright blue eyes, were fixed almost pleadingly upon her. Lucius’ pale grey had also once more drifted to her, they were just as fixed as his son, but his gaze was inquisitorial. Both Malfoy men clearly waiting for her to impart …… something.  Had the situation not been so serious, it might have been comical, she chewed on the inside of her lower lip, whatever her own thoughts on this subject were, she did not want to cause any more hurt to either man, or over step any boundaries.  Obviously, Lucius was learning to read her micro mannerisms as well as she was his.

“Hermione, I am sure that this kind of behaviour is something you have come across before, you might have a better understanding, dare I say perception, than clearly my son and I do…...perhaps….”

There was a standard text book answer to Lucius’ almost clinical question, even a Muggle proverb or saying which covered it quite nicely, but Hermione didn’t want to sound flippant or clichéd in any way, she did however find herself in a rather unique position, not only to, hopefully give them some sort of answer, to help them understand, but also to get them to talk to each other. In a bizarre way, secretly she thanked Narcissa Malfoy for her revelation to Draco.

She glanced from father to son, wondering where to start. Perhaps that Muggle expression wasn’t so flippant or clichéd after all, and the explanation not so very complicated.  As always Hermione kept her response on a personal level, only this time it was directed more at herself, or rather the fact that she was a woman.

“There is a Muggle expression, well it’s actually a line from a play, _hell hath no fury like a woman scorned._ Speaking as a woman, I am afraid, sometimes it’s very true.” 

Both Lucius and Draco listened intently and Hermione chose her words with excessive care, even more so than usual.

“For Narcissa to have done what she did, I think she felt exceedingly _scorned_ and incredibly hurt _,_ so much so that she was completely blind to everything else.” Despite her best efforts, Hermione felt her explanation sounded awfully text book and exceptionally sterile. But under the intent gazes of both Malfoy men she persevered.

 “Narcissa wanted to hurt you Lucius, that much is obvious, she wanted to get back at you for what she felt you had done to her.”

Hermione had no idea what that was, they had spoken only yesterday of the article, but their conversation had gone no further than what had been in print. This was still very much in that area which she felt was off limits, and would be crossing a line too far. She quickly went on.

“Each one of us here, is well aware that anger is a very powerful and sometimes dangerous emotion. When you mix it with hurt, it can prove a lethal combination and there is no telling the untold damage you can do. It’s easy to become fixated, obsessed, and be eaten up by it.” Hermione knew she had touched a nerve with both of them, but she also spoke for herself.

“For such an extreme reaction, I think Narcissa’s intention was maximum impact, and to take everything she could from you, the only way she could, everything that meant anything to you, just as I think, she felt you had done to her. That included Draco, but in doing so, so blinded was she by her anger, she didn’t consider how it would affect him.”

Hermione saw both sets of eyes, which remained firmly fixed on her, fill with comprehension, she didn’t feel she had lectured them too much, well maybe just a little bit, but thankfully she hadn’t got too _technical_ with them. Neither of them were stupid, but the workings of the human mind were complex enough, let alone the workings of the female mind, and Hermione wasn’t known for her concise explanations.  She saw something else flicker in Lucius’s face, and after a moment, for the first time, in what seemed like and age, he moved. Unlike Hermione, he didn’t carefully pick his way through the broken china and shattered glass, a brief wave of his hand and a muffled utterance magically dispatched the debris, leaving him a clear path.

Draco looked up at his father as he stood next to Hermione, she finally rose to her feet, the crouching position she had been in for so long, now cramping her circulation. Lucius spoke with careful deliberation as if every word were being wrenched from him.  Even in his own pain, the dark wizard had heard, Hermione’s unspoken question.

“Draco, I all but threw your mother out of this house, but the only pain I ever inflicted upon her was telling her that I no longer loved or wanted her. Neither of those things were because there was someone else, as the Dailey Prophet would have you believe. It is, I suspect, the reason why, as Hermione suggests, she felt so scorned and so hurt, and for that I cannot blame her.”

After the crashing and shattering of Draco’s anger, the room was shrouded in an eerie silence following Lucius statement.  Hermione had hoped this would be a place for them to start to talk to each other, but she hadn’t for one moment anticipated, it would quite so forthright, or that Lucius would be the instigator.

After what he felt were, his all-encompassing words, Lucius wasn’t entirely sure where to go from here. Had it just been himself and Hermione, he was certain, the words would have just tumbled from his lips, they usually did, but explaining such actions, his feelings to his son, was a lot more difficult.  Justifying why he had cast his wife of over twenty years, quite literally, out into the snow, to her adoring son, might not go so well.  He fought to find the right words, but was interrupted by Draco’s rather nervous voice.

“Mother told me, you no longer loved her and that it was why she left.”

 It was a simple admission from the younger Malfoy, but it visibly took a lot of effort to say the words to his father.

Lucius nodded at his son’s confession, it stood to reason Narcissa would tell him something.

“After everything that had happened, being in Az…. Azkaban, I…”

Tears pricked Hermione’s eyes and her throat constricted, this was so hard for Lucius, the revelation and the subject was difficult enough, but talking in this way to his son, was completely alien to him.

“I hated you for that. I blamed you…. I….”

His words came out all of a rush, before Draco stopped, and cast a quick look at Hermione. He had come to put so much stock into her words, her counsel, sometimes it was because of the work she did but more often it was simply because of her compassion, her understanding and her basic common sense. He had unintentionally hurt his father the other morning, he didn’t want to do that again, especially after how wrong he had been and in view of what had come to light now. He wanted to say so much to his father, but he wasn’t sure how, where to begin, or even of the right words, everything was swirling madly around in his head. All of this, as well as still coming to terms with what his mother had done. Thankfully Granger was here, she was like a human buffer, and whether his father was prepared to admit it or not, she was good for him; she was good for him too, and he would readily admit it, eventually. The young wizard tried to adopt her way of thinking, her attitude, hoping he sounded half as genuine and compassionate as she always did.

“ _Whatever_ had happened between you and mother, that’s where it should have stayed, between you two.”

Draco had always been extremely defensive of his family to outsiders, although this was a very different dynamic, a member of the family had been the source.  Hermione realised that in some ways Draco was as conflicted with his feelings and his emotions as Lucius was, but then being caught between your parents would do that, her heart went out to him as much as it did to Lucius.  

“I hated you, and I blamed you for not loving mother, for making her leave.”

Draco returned to what he had been about to say before, clearly now feeling more confident with his words.

“But I was being selfish. Granger…... Hermione pointed out, I was being selfish, just thinking about what I wanted, not how either of you felt or what you needed. That if you were together and miserable what was the point, I…”

Hermione wasn’t sure what surprised her most, Draco using her given name or talking to his father in this way, admitting to Lucius that they had discussed him, the situation.  She held her breath, he was skating very close to the edge. Her eyes darted between the two of them, waiting for Lucius’ response, or for Draco to continue.  Another eerie silence hung in the air. It was again the younger Malfoy who spoke. Hermione got the distinct impression it was in case he lost his nerve.

“I never believed what they printed in the Prophet, and I hated what those lies did to you.”

Lucius was grateful for his son’s words; Draco had never asked his father outright and Lucius had never volunteered any further information on the subject. Before he would have argued bitterly with his son, assured him that the article had done nothing to him, but with Hermione in the room, he could hardly do that. His son had also been on the receiving end of the foul temper and hateful moods that had followed its publication. Draco had watched him drink himself into oblivion, had seen him unkempt for days, he would be an idiot to even try and deny it had not had any effect on him. Once again, he was unspeakably grateful for the young witch’s presence, not only in this house, but in their lives.


	70. Dealing With Bugs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apologies of a different kind to start with, that I didn't give you this chapter last weekend as a bonus. I got drawn in to a a little one shot for another fandom, and well I just couldn't resist. So hopefully you will forgive me. Usual apologies apply for this chapter, any errors etc etc etc. Manners of course, thanks for kudos and comments...and back to the story...

 

Hermione couldn’t help but wonder what had prompted Narcissa Malfoy to tell her son what she had done, and why now?  She had seen first-hand, the contempt and anger that the former mistress of this house harboured for her husband, getting back at him was one thing, but the younger witch couldn’t fathom what the Malfoy matriarch could possibly gain from telling her son. Perhaps after their own encounter yesterday, the older woman had once again been blinded and driven by rage, and had simply lashed out, but why in Merlin’s name would she lash out at Draco? Even with her somewhat limited experience, she simply didn’t understand, there really did seem little point in doing so. It was as if Lucius had once more read her thoughts, as his voice, still unsettlingly calm, quietly addressed his son.

“I have to confess Draco, whilst your mother’s initial motives towards me at least, are certainly a lot clearer now, I cannot understand why she would choose to tell you this. I think she knows you considerable better than I, she would know, you would be very upset with her, and incredibly angry. I do not understand what would have possessed her.”

Draco’s cheeks were already uncharacteristically flushed from his earlier outburst, but Hermione didn’t fail to notice them visibly redden at his father’s question, his blue eyes glancing nervously around the room.

“She didn’t _tell_ me, I found out.” His voice was quieter than it had been. As Draco looked from his father to Hermione, shifting uncomfortably, and shrugging his narrow shoulders.

Lucius raised a dark blonde brow at his son’s admission, finding a weary smile curling his lips, he was hardly going to tell Draco off, but his son’s demeanour reminded the dark wizard of when Draco was a small child, when he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Just as he had done, when Draco was that small child, Lucius remained silent, waiting for his son to explain himself, he wondered if Draco remembered those all too numerous occasions.

“Mother was furious after everything that happened yesterday. The house was empty when we arrived, and that made her even more angry, so she retired early.”

Draco tried not to draw the story out, and was careful with the details he was certain his father wouldn’t want to hear.

“This morning, she sent one of her house elves to fetch me, she was still in bed with a malady of some kind, and she asked me to retrieve a potion from a drawer near her bed.”

Draco still looked a little uncertain as he continued to recount his story.

“The bottle was sitting on some paper, and I noticed the logo. I suppose I shouldn’t have snooped but I couldn’t help myself, it was a letter from the Daily Prophet, well from Rita Skeeter actually, thanking mother for granting her the interview. Some more over the top grovelling, and confirming a deposit of one thousand galleons had been made into her personal Gringott’s account.”

Draco’s tone rose slightly as he spoke of his shock.

“I couldn’t believe it at first, I was so mad and I just confronted her about it. Even mother could hardly deny the written proof.”

Draco’s face became concerned once more, as he looked earnestly at his father.

“What are you going to do father?”

Lucius was caught off guard by his son’s sudden, pointed question, he had missed the inference in his tone? Was he expecting Lucius to do something or was he worried that he might?

Oddly Lucius found himself all but devoid of anger.  His blood still boiled over the article, the untruths it had contained, what it had unfairly done to his already dubious reputation, but finding out that Narcissa was behind it, somehow changed things. If Hermione’s reasoning, as to what was behind Narcissa’s actions, was correct, it was perhaps no more than he deserved.

Uncertain as to his own intentions, he responded neutrally and honestly: “In truth Draco, I really have no idea.” The words were a little alien even to his own ears.

Not so very long ago, the former Death Eater would not have thought twice about his response, whatever the reasoning behind it. He would already be on his way to _deal_ with his wife, and as for the wretched Rita Skeeter, well even if she had written and printed a story she had assumed was true, which he very much doubted, truth of any kind being something of a novelty for her, his retribution would have been swift and uncompromising. 

“I am not sure that there is anything I can do.  To respond in any way to the newspaper will simply compound everything that has already been printed. Denial is futile, my past crimes have seen to that, and as I said anything aggressive will simply enforce what has already been written. As for your mother.” Lucius’ strong voice faltered for the first time, his arrogant head bowing slightly as he spoke of Narcissa.

“As for your mother, I did not treat her as I should have. We spent many years together, and clearly, I have hurt her very badly. I think perhaps, regardless of the truth, her vengeance, is something I have to live with.”

Hermione saw the surprise in Draco’s face at his father’s words, she had to admit she too was a little taken aback, but again could not refute his judgement.  However, despite that decidedly restrained, good judgement, Hermione being Hermione, she also wanted a good sense of fair play and neither the hateful Rita Skeeter or the soon to be, former Mrs Malfoy had played fairly at all.  Fairness, she realised was not the only driving force behind her indignation, a very protective streak towards Lucius was rearing its head. The little devil in Hermione had donned a very different hat this time, and was provoking a very different set of heated emotions. Until now she had kept quiet, except when Lucius had asked for her opinion.

“There might not be anything you can do as such, but I can.”

Blue and grey, locked with very fiery and determined brown.

“I know this is really none of my business, but….”

Considering those sparkling brown eyes, and seeing that single-minded look on Hermione’s face, Draco was reminded of the girl he had been at school with, an embarrassed and fearful sensation danced along his spine. His father’s poor treatment of his mother, almost paled against the despicable way he had treated Hermione Granger at school.  Mudblood she might well be, Malfoy that he was, he never came off well in any of those clashes and quite frankly he’d rather confront an angry troll, than go against her, then and now.  If she wanted to direct that at Rita Skeeter it was fine by him. His father was surprisingly a little more reticent about what the young witch had in mind.

“Hermione, I appreciate your concern for both myself and Draco, but I promised the Minister of Magic that I would take care of you whilst you were under my roof. You have already gone head to head with Narcissa, I cannot allow you to put yourself in harm’s way any further.”

Hermione’s heart swelled at his firm yet concerned words, that shielding instinct in her increasing. A smile tugging at her lips, her hand, as it often did these days, came to rest instinctively and reassuring on his arm. 

“Don’t worry Lucius, I will not be putting myself in harm’s way at all. Any duelling will be strictly of the verbal kind.” Her smile broadened conspiratorially.

“I am sure that Kingsley will relish some good publicity from the Daily Prophet and I know Ms Skeeter will love another scoop.”

Lucius’ pale grey eyes searched her face, visibly uncertain as to what she had in mind. Hermione and the little devil were in full conniving mode. Hermione knew, that when he took over at the Ministry, Kingsley Shacklebolt had ensured that news printed in the Daily Prophet was a lot more controlled and much less corrupt than it had once been, stories had to unbiased and contain a much larger element of truth. They still had their occasional run ins but on a whole, things were a lot more amicable now. It was with all this in mind, and her own previous encounters with Rita Skeeter, that sowed the seed in Hermione’s brain.

“However, before I approach Kingsley about this, Lucius I need both of your agreement, because it will in some way or another involve you both.”

Draco was more than willing to give Hermione’s plan, whatever it was, a go, but Lucius however, still seemed apprehensive.

“Hermione I am not sure about this, whatever it is, your feisty, impetuosity does you credit, but tends to lead you to all manner of dark places. I do not want to be responsible for anything happening to you.”

Hermione knew he was referring to her _imprisonment_ in Azkaban, and whilst she appreciated his thought for her, she was not going to be deterred, this was nowhere near as disturbing as that. Much as she loathed the Daily Prophet reporter, Hermione could hardly compare her to the foreboding prison, although if pushed she could probably find some similarities.  She also still held the upper hand, with the cunning, petite blonde woman, last time she crossed Hermione, she herself had ended up incarcerated, in a very small glass jar.  

Hermione didn’t want to fight Lucius, she certainly didn’t want him feeling responsible for anything, chivalrous and dare she say sweet as that maybe. She really did appreciate his open concerns for her and her safety, so she appeased him.

“Since I started working at the Ministry, well actually long before then, Rita Skeeter has been desperate to interview me. For obvious and not so obvious reasons I have always said no.  I will happily give her an interview now, it will however be on my terms and will be about the work you are helping me with Lucius.”

This time the tables were turned, and whilst Lucius appeared placated by her explanation, Draco was obviously not so sure.  He had asked Hermione to help his father, because he knew there was something wrong, he really didn’t think plastering that fact, all over the front page of the Daily Prophet was going change anything, or help anyone, least of all his father.

Hermione saw the look of horror on Draco’s once more, pale face and knew precisely where it was coming from.

“I will not be telling Rita Skeeter, anything that she, or the rest of the wizarding world does not already know, except for the fact that _former_ Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy has graciously agreed to help both myself and the Ministry of Magic with the work that I now do, being one of the few people still able to recount certain things, first hand and having invaluable insight.”

Hermione already sounded like a bi-line for the story.

The younger Malfoy nodded understandingly at Hermione, of course she knew exactly what she was doing, why had he ever doubted it, he also got the distinct feeling that if it came to it, she would defend his father for all she was worth. She had done so without a second thought to his mother, there was no question how she would react if Rita Skeeter dare step out of line.

“Do you think it will work.” He asked tentatively.

“Rita Skeeter being given an exclusive interview with me, at the behest of the Minister of Magic, and talking about Lucius Malfoy, what do you think Draco?”

“Well yeah when you put it like that, I guess so. But you know what that woman is like, she sensationalises everything and will twist it all, she isn’t known for telling the truth.”

They were right of course, in the past Rita Skeeter’s articles and her books had been based on false information and misreported interviews, truth was not high on the list of content. Hermione herself having been the subject of both.  But Hermione was a rather naïve teenager at Hogwarts then, now she worked at the Ministry of Magic, she was a well-known and much respected figure in the wizarding world. With the weight of Kingsley Shacklebolt behind her, and the small fact that Hermione knew that the poisonous reporter, was an unregistered Animagus, she felt her ground was safe enough.

“I think with the influence of the Minister and the Ministry behind me, I will be okay, but I don’t think there will be any harm in getting Kingsley to make Ms Skeeter aware of what will happen if she deviates from the truth in any way.”

Draco and Lucius glanced at each other, a look on both of their faces which screamed how glad they were, that this time Hermione Granger was on their side.

“Lucius, I know this is a lot to ask, especially in light of everything that has been said and done, and of course the subject matter itself, but would you consider doing the interview with me?”

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure that this was such a good idea herself, but having Lucius at her side, would certainly give the article more credence, and would have Rita Skeeter jumping through Quidditch hoops. If he remained in control, and Rita Skeeter did not get under his skin too much, talking to her, with Hermione, in the Ministry of Magic certainly wouldn’t do him any harm.

“Are you sure that would be a good idea?”

Lucius felt Hermione squeeze his arm, a warm reassuring smile lighting her face and making her brown eyes sparkle.  It was a simple gesture he had come to know so well, even watching her with his son, it just came so naturally and so easily to her. How funny with just a look and the briefest of touches, she made him feel that anything was possible.

She noticed Draco’s eyes fall to where her hand rested on his father’s sleeve, but he said nothing, just waited expectantly for a reply.

 “I am under no illusions that the hateful woman will put her own spin on it, and I won’t have things all my own way, but I think between the two of us we can handle an annoying bug like Rita Skeeter.” 

 


	71. Something Up Her Sleeve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always for comments and kudos, apologies for whatever you notice that I didn't.....and now time for a cuppa I think......

 

“Hermione, and here you are again, brightening the end of my week, just as you did the start.”

 The colourful, gregarious Minister of Magic greeted the young witch as she entered his office.

“I hope you are alright, there are no problems at Malfoy Manor……?”

Hermione quickly rushed to dispel his fears. “No, no, honestly Kingsley everything is fine, both Lucius and Draco are the perfect hosts, it couldn’t be going better.”

She restrained a small smile as the Minister’s dark brow rose at her use of Lucius’ Christian name, he had politely and respectfully been Mister Malfoy, when she had left this office on Monday afternoon.

“I am so sorry to request a meeting at such short notice, and on a Friday as well.”

“Nonsense, I was delighted when I saw your name had found its way into my diary this morning, I do try and get my secretary to keep Friday’s reasonably clear, in case any last-minute issues raise their ugly heads, that, and of course so I can skive off early.”

His deep voice was laced with humour as he gestured for Hermione to sit down, he had as always organised tea, and with it was the usual array of delicious biscuits and freshly baked pastries.

“I am afraid I only managed to owl your office late yesterday afternoon, so I was glad that you could see me.”

A napkin dropped into her lap and a cup of tea floated into her hand, Hermione couldn’t resist one of the warm cauldron cakes, even if was a little early.

“Hermione, I have told you many times, I will always find time to see you, it also gives me a wonderful excuse to indulge in tea and cake so early in the morning.”

He too popped a warm cake onto his serviette, breaking a tiny piece from the edge, he popped it into his beaming mouth.

“That’s very sweet of you Kingsley, on both counts.” Hermione returned his infectious grin. It was always good to have Kingsley Shacklebolt on side, and in a particularly good mood.

“So, first of all, let me give you a brief update on my week, I am afraid I haven’t had a chance to put anything down on parchment, but I will get you a full report as soon as possible.”

“Perish the thought my dear, your verbal update is good enough, and as I have said before, your work is a little outside of my own fields of expertise, so verbally and delightfully face to face is fine by me.” He continued munching on his cake.

Hermione filled him in, quickly and very briefly, taking full advantage of his otherwise occupied mouth.

“So, I am finding this exercise even more helpful than even I anticipated, and I’m sure that it will come in very useful in the future. Even Draco has proved a surprising source of information.”

“Good, good, I have to admit I was a little, well, apprehensive about the arrangement, especially you staying at the Manor.”

Hermione felt a small flush begin to creep to her face, she quickly concealed it behind the rim of one of Kingsley’s large Ministry cups.

“Kingsley whilst I am here, as well as keeping you apprised and obviously, your mind at rest that all is well, there is something else I wanted to talk to you about. Rita Skeeter…...”

The sound of the Minister choking on his cauldron cake resonated around the large office, Hermione quickly rose to pat him on the back, perhaps a tad forcibly, his dark face clearly flushed, his brown eyes, watering and even larger than usual. He dabbed his mouth with his napkin as he finally caught his breath.

“Oh Merlin, now that is a name I didn’t expect to hear from you, what has she been up too now, I will have…”

“No, Kingsley, honestly, surprisingly enough, it’s nothing bad…...are you sure you are alright, I didn’t intend to choke you.”

He waved his large hand dismissively, the heavy gold brocade of his robe rustling with the action.

“I am fine, somewhat curious now, but fine. Do go on.” The Minister took a large mouthful of tea and not to be deterred, returned to the offending cake.

“Well as you know, she’s been trying to get me to sit down and give her an interview for ages.” Hermione watched Kingsley Shacklebolt carefully, if just mentioning Rita Skeeter’s name had prompted that reaction, Merlin alone knew what the rest of the conversation was going to do to him.

“I thought that maybe to stop her pestering me and the Ministry, I would give her what she wanted.”

Kingsley Shacklebolt’s knowing brown eyes settled on her over the rim of his cup, as he replaced it into the saucer, a large, rather suspicious grin sat on his lips.

“Hmm, now Hermione, I have known you for far too long, there is no way, you would give that unpleasant woman the time of day, let alone an interview, unless of course you wanted something from her, or you have something else tucked up that robe sleeve of yours.”

Just as when she had come to speak to Kingsley about Lucius, the canny Minister saw right through her. Laughingly she responded.

“Technically you are right on both counts Kingsley.”

“Ha I knew it.” He rubbed his large crumb covered hands in glee.

“And as ever Hermione, I am intrigued, do go on.”

The Minister helped himself to yet another cake, the self-propelling tea pot replenished his cup and Kingsley Shacklebolt settled himself back in his large comfortable chair to listen to what Hermione had in mind.

Just as when she had come to speak to Kingsley about Lucius, Hermione had gone over and over in her head, just how she was going to approach the Minister and what she was going to say.

“Well of course Kingsley as you so rightly say, I would not normally give that odious, lying woman, the time of day. However, I feel that in this instance, I…. we, could use her to our distinct advantage. She could be useful, dare I say beneficial, to both my work and to the Ministry.”

Kingsley didn’t interrupt, he continued with his refreshments and allowed her to carry on, clearly, very absorbed.

“As you said before, what I do is very new to the wizarding world, I think perhaps it, and the Ministry would really benefit from a little publicity about it, nothing too radical, just initially touching on what I do, the people I aid. Also, how people have helped me, yourself included of course, how people from the past have also been willing to put their old prejudices aside and embrace, new ideas.”

Hermione had noticed Kingsley’s interest spike when she had strategically mentioned his input and willingness to assist her.

“Of course, we are talking about Rita Skeeter here, who is not synonymous with the truth, so I have some ground rules before this interview takes place.”

The Minister of Magic simply nodded his acquiescence and Hermione continued.

“If it isn’t too much of an imposition I would like your office to extend the offer to the daily Prophet, I think it will have more impetus coming from you. I would also, if at all possible, like the interview to take place here at the Ministry, I know it would mean allowing her into the building, but she would be under Ministry rules and supervision, and we could monitor her and the interview much more closely.”

“Hermione, I think you are right, a little publicity of what you do, would be an excellent idea, as you say it won’t do the Ministry any harm either, keep us up there as a forerunner of new ideas. Consider it done.” A very satisfied look appeared on the Minister’s face.

“I also agree wholeheartedly, as regards to Miss Skeeter, she must be under no illusions that this will all be above board and that nothing will be printed without my approval, anything contravening that will result in severe consequences for her and that editor of hers. I do not like censorship, but in this instance, I think it is prudent. And for such a coup, I am sure they will be more than willing to comply.”

Hermione knew she wouldn’t even have to ask Kingsley about the consequences of breaking rules. Just as he knew her too well, she knew the Minister well enough.

“You suggested mentioning people from the past and how they have helped.” Kingsley replaced his cup on the table and laid his napkin down beside it. “I assume you are referring to Lucius Malfoy?”

Hermione regarded the Minister carefully, uncertain as to how he would take this, it may be her work, but to all intense and purposes, the former Death Eater was going to be representing the institution which had incarcerated him, and stripped him of just about everything. She had however foreseen this and was ready with a counter, although she ended up pre-empting the Minister.

“I am Kingsley, in truth I thought it might be a way of thanking him for agreeing to speak to me.”

She noticed Kingsley eyes narrow, but in a good way, he clearly liked where she was going with this.

“When we spoke earlier in the week, you mentioned he was looking to get back in the Ministry’s good books, was even perhaps looking for something for Draco to do. I simply felt this would be a more personal thank you from me, but obviously with the backing of the Ministry of Magic. Maybe a slower more restrained way of eventually _allowing_ him back, a small show of approval perhaps”

“That my dear Hermione, is a little devious.”

Hermione’s mouth went dry and she quickly sipped on her own tea, had Kingsley really seen through her _that_ easily.

“But I like you’re thinking, this way the Ministry isn’t seen to be making any rash decisions.”

Hermione liked the way Kingsley was thinking too, especially as he hadn’t dispelled her words about allowing Lucius back into the Ministry fold, _eventually_.

“I suppose it would be expecting too much of Lucius Malfoy to ask him to speak to Rita Skeeter as well, especially after that article the other week. I know the man is no saint, but well that is his personal business nothing to do with anyone else, the Ministry included, and to be honest with you Hermione, I’d seen him with Narcissa and well……”

The Minister didn’t elaborate, but he gave Hermione a knowing look, like you said this is Rita Skeeter we are talking about.”

Hermione was ecstatic, but tried to contain her delight and a little excitement, inflicting a hint of surprise in her reactions, at Kingsley’s suggestion. Of course, it was exactly what she wanted, had been angling for, but she hadn’t for a moment thought that the Minister himself would propose the idea. That coupled with the fact that although he hadn’t brought himself to actually say the words out loud, from his inference, the young witch strongly suspected the Minister of Magic doubted the truth in the story.

“I will speak to Lucius, but I think, if he feels that it is what you want and will benefit the Ministry, and himself of course, he will only be too pleased to do it.”

Hermione didn’t want to paint Lucius Malfoy too snow white, the Minister would definitely suspect something. Kingsley’s laughter was testament to her quick thinking.

“Ah yes, we must not forget the man of old entirely. Although he seems to have won you over.”

Hermione was thankful she was neither munching on a cauldron cake, or sipping her tea, the Minister’s simple remark, would have seen her choking in a similar vein to him. None the less she felt heat suffuse her face at his observation.

“I…am afraid I cannot deny it Kingsley, I have seen a very different man to the one, we once all knew.”  

Something kicked in in Hermione. Yes, there was the professional element, but it was something else, that protectiveness she seemed to have developed towards Lucius? No that wasn’t it either. It was quite simply, the truth.

“He has changed, I can see that even more now. Professionally he has been very honest and open with me these last few days, something that would never have happened before.  We’ve had our differences in the past, and I have to admit I was not really looking forward to returning to Malfoy Manor.”

Hermione looked into the wise face of the Minister, he was listening very carefully to every word she said.

“The man I saw this week wasn’t the man I knew of old.  I really do not think I am that gullible that he could have deceived me in such a way, he has been far too honest with me, especially with some of the things we have discussed. So, I would say, you are as always, Kingsley, quite right, Lucius Malfoy has won me over, I might not be quite so willing to admit that to Rita Skeeter though.”

Gentle laughter resonated around the room, and relief seeped into Hermione’s veins, she was glad that Kingsley Shacklebolt had been so keen to accept her suggestion and also to back her up in such a way. She hadn’t lied to him, although she had manipulated him just a little bit, which was naughty of her. Although, perhaps if she was being honest with herself, she too had been just a little bit manipulated, as the Minister said, he had known her for too long. She played into his hands just as easily and willingly as he played into hers. After all, neither of them was a fool and they both had the best interests of the Ministry of Magic and their world at heart.    

 


	72. Marshmallows And Malice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for some more refreshments and to catch up with an old friend........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The proprieties first, thanks for comments and kudos. Also apologies for anything, but especially for the fact a couple of chapters it appears became duplicated. I think I have sorted that out now and we are back up and running as should be with chapter 72.......

 

After her meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt, Hermione intended returning immediately to Wiltshire, it was after all work, it wasn’t as if she were skiving off and rushing home or anything. The strange thing was she found herself missing it. Maybe that wasn’t all she was missing, a little voice at the back of her head quietly suggested.  The thought unsettled the young witch, it was a ridiculous notion, after everything that had happened this week, she was just worried for Lucius and for Draco, and would feel a lot easier when she returned, but instead of going back to the Manor, she ducked into her office. There was bound to be an interdepartmental memo or two to read. Maybe an unimportant owl which hadn’t been redirected?  There were precisely two memos which sat on her painfully tidy and relatively unused desk. One which related to a meeting on Tuesday, glancing at the date, she realised it was the Tuesday just gone, so that was pretty useless.  The other confirming some new staff appointments, she gave it a cursory glance, before casting it into the bin with the other one.  She thought about drafting her written update for Kingsley, but after their conversation, she got the distinct impression, he was more than happy with her verbal version.  Hermione toyed aimlessly with her quill, it seemed an eon ago that she had sat at this desk doing anything let alone, writing a report for the Minister of Magic. She hardly ever used the office and still felt, it was a little silly having it, but she had given up trying to argue that point with Kingsley Shacklebolt. In a vain attempt to feel it wasn’t totally redundant, she reached for a blank sheet of parchment, she would make some notes for her own reference, perhaps use them at a later date for something. Details of her conversations with Lucius, what progress they had made, and what that progress had entailed. After writing the previous Monday’s date on the top of the cream paper, mentally she began to recount the past four days, quickly coming to realise this really wasn’t something she wanted to commit to paper, as the memories of the last week flooded her mind, heat flooded her body and her face.

“Hey are you alright, you look a little flushed.”

Hermione had become rather _absorbed_ in her recollections and hadn’t heard the knock on her door, although knowing her old friend, she doubted in her excitement, Ginny Weasley would have bothered with knocking.

“What, Ginny hi, what are you doing here.”

Ginny’s tinkling laughter reverberated around her silent office.

“I am meeting Harry, I don’t have a game this weekend or any training so we are sneaking off together. So, are you okay?”

“That’s lovely, yes, sorry I am fine, just some interdepartmental politics.” Hermione covered her tracks quickly, screwing up the all but blank parchment before her. Ginny Weasley might not have any interest in interdepartmental memos, but what Hermione, had been contemplating putting on paper would have certainly piqued her interest.  Hermione moved the subject quickly back to the young redhead.

“So, no game this weekend, where are you and Harry off to then, somewhere nice?”

“I have no idea.” The youngest Weasley moved fully into Hermione’s office and flung herself into a chair.

“Once I told Harry I had a totally free weekend and wasn’t needed back until Monday, he assured me to leave it to him, he would organise something.”

“That’s very sweet of him.”

“Hmm that depends where we end up."

The two old friends giggled together: “That is very true, but Harry is quite good at that kind of thing, I am sure it will be lovely. Where is the man himself then?”

Hermione wasn’t trying to get rid of Ginny, but she knew her old friend only too well, if she spent any length of time with Hermione, the conversation would eventually become gossip and Hermione wasn’t in the mood for that. She didn’t have any of her own, well not that she was prepared to share anyway and knowing Ginny as she did, it would probably all be totally unfounded and quite ridiculous.

“He got dragged into a last-minute meeting, some flap or another. He said he’d heard you were here, so I thought I’d poke my head around the door, thought we might grab a coffee or something, catch up on the latest gossip.”

And there it was, Hermione’s heart sank, not only was she still awash with Kingsley’s tea and cauldron cakes, she really wasn’t in the mood for this, but having been caught unawares, she doubted she could come up with anything that was going to put Ginny off, or sound remotely plausible. She looked at her completely empty desk, telling Ginny she had a stack of work to get through wasn’t going to work either.

“That would be lovely, I cannot be too long though, I have a meeting of my own to get to.”

Ginny was far too delighted with the prospect of coffee and a chat to enquire further after Hermione’s non-existent meeting.

Ginny scribbled a quick note for Harry and sent it to his office, telling him she had found Hermione and they were going for coffee. Thankfully, Hermione managed to keep Ginny in the Ministry. Things had changed quite a bit since Kingsley had taken over, in all manner of ways, and the newly appointed Minister, had suggested a café on site. It meant that meetings now readily had, tea, coffee and cakes and if it was a very long meeting, you also got the option of sandwiches. It was also a nice place to get away from your desk and enjoy a little break, and visitors could enjoy Ministry hospitality too, it was located near the reception and was run by a retired witch and her sister.

Ginny wasn’t too pleased that she couldn’t get Hermione out of the Ministry, but as a hot chocolate, topped with frothy cream and marshmallows settled before her, she quickly warmed to the idea.

“This is new, and rather nice I have to admit.”

Hermione too, despite her early morning tea and cake with Kingsley, had also succumbed to the temptation of the sweet laden beverage.

“It was Kingsley’s idea, you know what a sweet tooth he has, and how he cannot go ten minutes without tea, he thought having a little place in the Ministry was a good idea. Miss Matty and Miss Freda are friends of his, and I have to say they certainly make a mean cauldron cake.”

Hermione took the long spoon that came with her chocolate and captured a mallow or two.

“It’s been ages since I last saw you, what have you been doing?” Ginny asked eagerly.

“Just working really, being the only person in my department means there is a lot to do.”

She didn’t share any details of her work, save the basics, with anyone, and she certainly wasn’t revealing any details of her current _project,_ especially not to Ginny Weasley, best friend or not.

 _“_ I know and I think the last time we met we were stuffing our faces with coffee and cake.” Hermione tried to steer the conversation in a safe direction.

However, she also remembered that the last time they had gotten together over coffee and cake, she had been tired and grumpy, they had ended up talking about Lucius, or rather Ginny had ended up talking about Lucius and Hermione had got even more grumpy. She really didn’t want to go down that path today.

Ginny giggled once more, wiping fluffy cream from her freckled nose as she took a sip of her drink.

“Hmm do you think we are getting old and boring?”

Hermione shook her head, trying to avoid the same creamy fate as her friend.

“Oh, I remember that day, now.”

Ginny suddenly looked up, her hazel eyes sparkling. “You were really grumpy and casually dropped into conversation that you’d seen Draco Malfoy and his father.”

So much for her plan to keep the conversation light and steer it away from anything contentious, or to be more accurate Lucius Malfoy.  She tried to keep the tone in her voice light, Ginny would soon pick up on anything.

“Yes, and as I recall, you gave me an inquisition worthy of Severus Snape, over a very boring Ministry do.”

Ginny pulled a face of mock anguish, screwing up her once more, creamy nose at the inference.

“Professor Snape, oh thanks.” Her laughter was muffled or rather bubbled, as she took another lofty mouthful of the hot chocolate.

Hermione recognised that naughty look in Ginny’s eyes and how they glanced a little furtively around.

“I remember asking you if Draco looked as hot as he did the last time I saw him.”

This kind of girly gossip Hermione didn’t mind, Ginny might have been talking about _another man_ but Hermione knew she adored Harry, so it was all quite harmless. She couldn’t help the friendly jibe nonetheless: “And I remember reminding you about your own boyfriend.”

Just as she had done at their last meeting, Ginny Weasley flushed a deep shade of red, her face almost matching her vibrant hair. Hoping that the conversation would remain as frothy as the cream and as light as the marshmallows was too much to expect.

“Talking of the Malfoy’s, did you see the article that Rita Skeeter wrote in the Daily Prophet about Lucius Malfoy?”

Hermione knew Ginny would not be able to resist talking about the article, and would want to pick over the bones of it. She tried to nip the conversation in the bud.

“I saw it but I didn’t read it, you know how I feel about Rita Skeeter and her so called form of journalism.”

She hoped that reminding her old-school friend of her feelings towards the hateful reporter would deter any further conversation on the subject.  It was of course too much to hope for.

“Oh, Merlin Hermione, you should have read it, it was awful, what a horrible man, but then we always knew he was.”

Hermione tried to swallow her rising anger with another mouthful of the hot sweet drink, viewing Ginny over the rim of the glass and a still hefty amount of pink and white mallows.

“He had affairs with countless women, and slept with prostitutes too.” Her voice became, loudly hushed as she continued to recount the article to Hermione.

“He beat Narcissa and I bet he beat Draco too…... I.”

“So, the truthfully impaired Ms Skeeter would have you believe Ginny.”

Hermione pointed out, replacing the long tall glass into the saucer, anger making it clatter a little more than it should have.

“Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater, he had Voldemort in his house…... of course he….”

Hermione’s temper was getting away with her, but she didn’t want to lose it with Ginny and especially not here.

“Yes Ginny, that much we know is true. Other than what I was party to myself, its well documented. It is after all why the man was sent to Azkaban, but the rest is…. is for all we know just the poisonous quill of Rita Skeeter in action.”

“And it might not be, how do we know that he didn’t do all of those things.”

“How do we know he did.” Hermione’s tone was sharper than she intended and very clipped.

“Because Rita Skeeter said so Ginny, because it was printed in the Daily Prophet. Look what she said about me, about Harry.” Hermione tried to contain her defensiveness of Lucius, directing her words towards herself and her other old friend.

“That’s different, I know you and I know Harry, of course that was all rubbish.” Her petulance was almost as bad as Draco’s.

The thought made Hermione smile inwardly, the idea oddly quelling her temper, giving her a little more perspective.

“Exactly, we don’t know Lucius Malfoy. We choose to believe all those nasty things Rita Skeeter, wrote because of the bad things we already know to be true. It’s natural progression and human nature.” Hermione censored her own words, knowing just how defensive she was beginning to sound.

“Oh, that’s just your job talking, trying to see a good side in everyone, thinking everyone is hurting and that’s why they do things. You know as well as I do that Lucius Malfoy is an evil, nasty….”

“Stop it Ginny, just stop. Maybe my work has given me a different perspective, changed the way I look at people, that I actually believe people can change. Well rather that than believe the vile malicious words of someone I know wouldn’t recognise the truth if it smacked her in the face.”

Hermione saw Ginny’s cheeks flush an even deeper shade of crimson, she might have known the youngest Weasley for many years, but she was uncertain as to whether it was anger that caused the flush or embarrassment as Hermione’s reproachful words.

“I cannot believe that you are defending someone like Lucius Malfoy…. You know what he did to me, to my…”

Hermione stopped Ginny once more in her tracks. “Ginny I am _not_ defending him, I know full well what he has done in the past, you were not the only who suffered as a direct consequence of his actions. I know what he is capable off.”

As well as trying to contain her temper, Hermione tried to hide her exasperation with Ginny.

Even to herself, she did not have to justify that she was in no way defending Lucius actions in the past. Ginny Weasley had been a lot younger than Hermione when she had, as Hermione had pointed out, suffered as a direct consequence of Lucius Malfoy’s actions. She could not criticise her friend for her feelings towards him now, that would be unfair, that Hermione had chosen to move on, to forgive Lucius that was her choice, Ginny had made hers.  What she could berate her friend for now, was choosing to believe everything else without validation, especially from a proven liar of whom both Ginny and Hermione had had past dealings.

“All I am saying is, you cannot believe everything that is printed in that scandalous rag, about anyone. Especially if Rita Skeeter has anything to do with it.” 

The words echoed around in Hermione’s head.

Merlin’s teeth, she had just convinced Kingsley Shacklebolt, that an interview with Rita Skeeter would be a good thing for the Ministry of Magic, for her work, for Lucius Malfoy, and here she was telling Ginny Weasley that people didn’t believe a word that she wrote anyway. Hermione banished the thought, there were plenty of witches and wizards who thought exactly like Ginny Weasley, and believed every word that was printed. They were the ones the article would be directed at, the others were like Hermione, prepared to give someone the benefit of the doubt a second chance even, she would hold on to that thought.

“You are no fun anymore Hermione, once upon a time you would have enjoyed a good gossip, picked

over the article with me.”

Hermione bit her lip as she drained her glass, in truth she had never enjoyed a good gossip as Ginny put it, a bit of harmless girly chatter was something else, but this was just nasty and full of malice.

“Well maybe you are right Ginny, I am just getting old and boring.”  She couldn’t help but notice the small smile that twitched Ginny’s lips.

“Hey, what, or should I say who are you two gossiping about?” Harry’s arrival was well timed, his choice of greeting maybe not so much.

h


	73. Relinquishing Miss Granger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So after her successful meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt and a bit of a stressful encounter with Ginny Weasley .....................

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of thanks for lovely words and kudos, you are tooooooooooooo kind :-) And I love you all for letting me any little faus pas as well ;-)

 

Lucius had adjusted the wards around the Manor, allowing Hermione to enter freely when she returned from London.  She was taken back by his gesture, assuring him it wasn’t necessary, but he had been most insistent, she had no intention of arguing with him, but was stunned by such an open gesture of trust, especially in view of recent events.  With this in place however, she slipped quietly and effortlessly back into the Manor, still bristling somewhat, from her encounter with Ginny. She was thankful for Harry’s timely intervention, if not his unfortunate choice of words.  With the arrival of her boyfriend, and the promise of a weekend alone somewhere, Ginny’s attention was quickly and easily diverted, allowing Hermione an equally quick and easy escape, with the promise to catch up properly, very soon.

How peculiar it was that she would find Malfoy Manor, of all places, such a safe haven and peaceful retreat, the irony was not lost on Hermione.   The Manor was never a noisy place, well with the exception of the odd displays of temper from the prodigal son, or the raised voices of an uninvited guest, but this afternoon it was bathed in blissful almost comforting silence.  The light clicking sound of claws on polished wood, was the only noise to be heard, as Kauno and Isa happily came to greet Hermione.

“Where is everyone?” She asked the two large hounds, their heads cocking to one side at the sound of her voice, their tails wagging furiously as she patted those same enquiring heads.

Hermione would have gone for a stroll around the gardens with the dogs, a breath of fresh air would have been most welcome, but it had been an unseasonably cold morning, and as she arrived back at the Manor, an icy rain had begun to fall. In the absence of a refreshing walk, a good book would clear her head and sooth her fractious mood. Hermione didn’t feel like going into Narcissa’s former sitting room, she was sure Lucius would have had the house elves clear up the mess, but for the young witch, today, comfort came in the form of books and the smell of fine leather. Uncertain where either Draco or Lucius were, she slipped into the library, it too was deserted, but the dogs were close at her heel, their Master couldn’t be around, or Hermione felt sure, they would be with him.  The heavy, icy rain lashed against the windows, just the sound made her feel cold and she shivered involuntarily. As in the sitting room, there was a large sable rug on the floor in front of the stone hearth, and instead of making herself comfortable in one of the leather chairs or on the sofa, Hermione sank down into its luxurious softness, closer to the warmth of the welcoming fire, the two dogs flanking her. A sudden tap on the window caused one of them bark and the other to growl softly, a bedraggled owl hovered outside, and with a swift wave of her wand, the window opened and the soggy creature flew into the room. The wet envelope it clutched in its beak, bore the distinctive crest of the Ministry of Magic, as well as Kingsley Shacklebolt’s instantly recognisable handwriting. Taking it from the owl, Hermione rushed to open it. 

_My Dear Hermione_

_It was lovely to see you this morning, although I think perhaps I over indulged on cauldron cakes._

Hermione smiled at the recollection and almost choking the Minister.

_As we discussed, I have spoken to the editor of the Daily Prophet and with Rita Skeeter and set up the interview. Of course, just as we surmised, they were both delighted you have agreed to speak with them, even after I laid down the ground rules.  So, it is all organised for Monday at 11am, I hope that is alright with both you and Lucius._

Kingsley’s, you _and Lucius,_ sent an odd little frisson through Hermione, it was obviously just seeing the Minister use his name so freely and without worry……...

_I am away for a couple days next week, I have business with the Magical Congress, as such, I thought you might like to use my office to meet with Miss Skeeter. My secretary is aware of the arrangements, subject to any changes you might need to make, regarding timing, so just let her know. I thought using my office would be the safest place, as you suggested we can monitor things much better on home ground. It also reinforces those rules I laid down._

Hermione could almost see Kingsley Shacklebolt’s brown eyes glittering cunningly and that knowing smile of his.

_The article will not be published until the Friday, after I return and have given it my approval. The editor was a little miffed with my censorship, but I told him without it, there would be no interview, sufficed to say, he complied._

_Have a lovely weekend._

_Yours Kingsley Shacklebolt_

_Minister of Magic_

Hermione smiled at the parchment, as appreciative as ever, for the trust Kingsley had in her judgement, and for his unwavering support.  Even for him, this was a big step, not only was he backing her up, her work, but he was also giving a certain amount of Ministry approval to Lucius. That in itself, carried a huge amount of weight, and she was inordinately grateful to him, for doing so, in such a public fashion.

The large official looking owl was drying out nicely by the roaring fire, after ruffling its sodden plumage a few times, it had settled on the handle of a log basket, and gradually his large yellow eyes, began to flicker shut. Kauno and Isa had long since given up taking any notice of it, and Hermione didn’t have the heart to send the poor creature out once more, into the driving rain. She had no changes to make to Kingsley’s proposed plan, all she needed was to drop him a note of thanks, but that could wait.

The warmth of the fire, reading Kingsley’s letter, and the sound of the rain lashing against the windows, made Hermione suddenly feel quite sleepy. The dogs were stretched out happily on the rug, it really was invitingly soft, and there was no one around, so she too stretched out. The two large dogs immediately moved closer, Kauno at Hermione’s back and Isa’s soft head resting against her hand. The fire continued to crackle reassuringly and the sound of the constant rain against the window became oddly therapeutic.

Lucius had made himself comfortable in one of the wing back leather chairs in the library, his cane rested against the chair, and in his hand, he clasped a large brandy glass, with just a small amount of the dark golden liquid in the bottom. Recently he’d had no desire to drown himself in it, simply to savour and enjoy the taste, as he once had.

With the weather closing in as it had done today, and the afternoon getting dark very quickly, he had worried where Hermione was. Of course, it made sense she would make good use of her time at the Ministry, catching up on any work there, maybe even with a colleague or a friend, it did not lessen his anxiety, and he even began to wonder if perhaps she might not want to return to the Manor. Lucius hastily admonished himself for that ridiculously slanderous thought. Hermione Granger was a very professional young woman, she worked for the Ministry of Magic, whatever else might have occurred to her, he knew, she would never just abandon something, or someone, for that matter, without a word of explanation.  As the weather, had worsened and the rain and turned into a sleet of sorts, his anxiety had increased. She was hardly walking back to the Manor, but that was beside the point.

 

Sometime after Hermione had departed, Draco had received an owl, inviting him to spend the weekend with friends. The young wizard had been all for declining the offer, not wanting to leave his father alone, and saying, he wasn’t really in the mood, but Lucius had told him that was nonsense. Assuring his concerned offspring, that he would be perfectly alright. Draco deserved some fun of his own, especially after such a week, and Hermione would be back soon, it seemed rather strange saying that to Draco, and equally strange that his son took the response in his stride.  All be it a little reluctantly, Draco had left, leaving Lucius alone once more, not even the dogs were anywhere to be found, Lucius wandered into the library in an attempt to distract his mind, lose himself in a book, maybe enjoy a brandy, until Hermione returned, hopefully soon. Even after only a few days he missed her presence in his house, he missed her company, actually, he just missed her.  As he watched her now, sleeping soundly in front of the fire, his two beloved dogs almost guarding her protectively, they hadn’t even stirred when he had entered the room, the former Death Eater wondered what life would be like when she left, the thought upset, scared him even, for so many reasons.

The dark wizard gently swirled the golden liquid around the bulbous snifter, his pale, reflective, grey eyes not moving from the young woman on the floor. This was the third time she had been on the floor in his home, a small smile lifted his lips as he recalled the second time, his body reacting quickly and with equal warmth to the recollection.  She was of course right, their intimate encounter in the sitting room, was the more prominent memory, the scene before him now, would also forever be etched upon his brain, both such sweet memories, but he still could not eradicate that first time.  The warmth in his body vanished, giving way to an icy chill, which chased a shiver down his rigid spine.

As he looked at the glorious mane of hair tumbling about her face and shoulders, he could not help but remember it entwinned in his deranged sister-in-law’s dirty, gnarled fingers, as she dragged the screaming young girl around the Manor. That awful feeling of nausea once more churning his stomach. How could he, as a man, as a father, no less, have stood by and allowed that to happen? Hermione had told him in no uncertain terms, that he was not to torment himself with things that happened in the past, he had to move on, and leave them where they belonged, in the past.  He could hear her gently admonishing voice, but a few short days ago, telling him he would never forget, but assuring him that he had changed. Despite that, over her softly placating tones, he could still hear Hermione’s terrified screams from that dreadful day, and they did not ease Lucius Malfoy’s guilt.  He also felt guilty about something else, all be it a minor insignificance, compared to standing by and allowing her to be tortured, but nonetheless it niggled away at him, it was another yet another failing on his part.  Hermione had been at the Manor for almost five days, she had come to his home, with a view to him helping her, providing her with insight. Looking back over those five days Lucius realised, that he had done little or nothing to help her, and had certainly not given her any insight into anything, save the unholy mess his life and his family were, which he was quite sure, she was already more than well aware off. In fact, thinking about, it had been the complete reverse of what she had wanted. Hermione seemed to have spent the entire time, helping either him or Draco and giving them valuable insight. He should have offered to sit and talk to her, answer any questions she had, admittedly they had talked and she had asked questions, none of those conversations or questions, he felt sure, related to her work. Instead of assisting Hermione, he had allowed her to be side-tracked, and become wrapped up in his own problems. She had intimated at professionalism, and Lucius being the arrogant bastard he was, had used it as leverage almost, to get her back into his bed. Perhaps he really hadn’t changed that much at all.

He took another sip of his brandy, it reminded him of something else she had said to him, how she preferred the spicy scent of his cologne to the bitter scent of alcohol, it curved his lips back into that rather indulgent smile. As the beautifully rounded and very expensive cognac slipped down his throat, he doubted this would have a bitter scent, even to Hermione. She stirred in her sleep, her slender fingers against Isa’s ear, Lucius was filled with a strangely warm and contented feeling, and it wasn’t just the alcohol. He had missed her being here, he couldn’t deny it, even for that short period of time, Hermione’s presence in this house had a strange effect on him, she touched him in all manner of ways, and not just sexually, many he didn’t even understand. The one thing he did understand, and all too clearly was, it would be very difficult to relinquish that feeling. Fear scorched his bones once more, in a week or two, Hermione Granger would leave Malfoy Manor, her work would be done.  She wouldn’t need him anymore, not his help or his insight, that hurt the dark wizard, in a way he didn’t think possible. She might have agreed to sleep in his bed, but that was just for the duration of her visit, wasn’t it?

Despite the brandy and the fire, a cold desolation that Lucius hadn’t felt in a while crept into his veins.  She was here now, a positive little voice in the back of his head reminded him, a small very Slytherin voice also reminded him, he didn’t have to tell her everything she wanted all at once, it might be a very slow process, which he could stretch out to longer than a week or two. There was also the meeting with Rita Skeeter, if Hermione had managed to get Kingsley Shacklebolt to agree to her plan, that would take time to put in motion and prepare for.

Thinking about what Hermione had come here to talk about, took him back to those dark, bleak days, spent in Azkaban, and about something else, this time that he had said to her. How she would have been a ray of light and given him something to look forward to. Lucius realised that didn’t just apply to those seemingly endless days spent in the soul-destroying prison, it applied equally now. There had been dark times this week, she had been so strong, she had been a constant ray of light, in every way possible and no matter what happened, each time she gave him something to look forward to, something positive to hang onto. Those feelings weren’t something Lucius Malfoy wanted to relinquish any time soon, nor did he want to relinquish Hermione Granger anytime soon.


	74. The Thorn Bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are the tops as they say. Thank you so much for lovely words about the last chapter, glad you enjoyed it so much..... 
> 
> And Hermione wakes up.......

The indulgent smile was back on Lucius Malfoy’s face as Hermione’s beautiful brown eyes drifted slowly open.  She looked a little startled, maybe to find him watching her quite so intently, or that perhaps she had fallen asleep on the floor.  As if to reinforce his previous ponderings, she looked so at home, content even as she propped herself up onto one elbow, the other hand remained firmly against the sleeping dog, as she returned his smile.  He really mustn’t get used to this or her being here.

“Have I been asleep long?” She asked, the heat from the fire flushing her cheeks or again perhaps that was down to the fact she had fallen asleep on the floor.  

“I have absolutely no idea my dear, I came in and found the three of you, well four, if you count the somewhat grumpy looking owl, which left a few moments ago.”

Hermione laughed, she had forgotten about the poor drenched owl, it reminded her of Kingsley’s letter, which with a brief swish of her wand, she wafted across the room to Lucius. He took it in his free hand, the other still held the brandy glass and the remnants of the drink itself.  She studied him carefully as he read.  The brief twitch of amusement which lifted that sensual mouth of his, that must have been the comment about the cauldron cakes, a slight widening of his eyes, followed by a raised eyebrow. It was still raised as his wide grey eyes met hers.

“Kingsley certainly does hold you in very high regard, not only agreeing to this in the first place, but allowing you to use his office.”

Hermione didn’t want this to be about her, she was doing it for Lucius, but her friendship with the Minister of Magic certainly didn’t hurt, and was most advantageous.

“Maybe so, but Lucius, you and I both know that Kingsley Shacklebolt is a very astute wizard, not to mention a rather canny politician, it will put the Mistry in a very good, forward thinking, as he likes to call it, light. I am sure, depending on the nature of the meeting, it will crop up with MACUSA next week.” Her smile broadened, appreciating the Minister’s own _forward thinking_ on that part.

“And as you know, I do of course have another agenda which, admittedly I did, _slightly_ obscure from him.”

“Hmm, do you really think so?”

Hermione shifted a little stiffly, finally sitting upright, much to Kauno and Isa’s irritation, they raised their sleepy heads, miffed, at her sudden movement, disturbing their comfortable positions. Hermione shushed them, patting them both affectionately, until they laid down once more.

Lucius didn’t miss the gesture, loving the natural ease with which she spoke to his dogs, and the way they responded to her. Earning the trust of any animal was not easy, but these two had always been his dogs, they answered to no one but him, and they had certainly, never reacted to anyone else like they did to Hermione. It spoke volumes, reiterating to the dark wizard, what he already knew about this young woman.

“I didn’t deceive Kingsley, everything I told him was perfectly true.” She gave Lucius a mock look of indignation.   

“In fact, it was he that suggested you speak to Rita Skeeter with me, although, he wasn’t sure you would be prepared to, not after everything that had happened, but I said I would talk to you about it, see how you felt.”

The look of mock indignation, moved towards vixen like cunning.

“I am certain, you had the Minister of Magic wrapped around that very smart little finger of yours.” He returned her look with some mock disapproval of his own.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, a coquettish smile now lighting her face and making her eyes sparkle. She noticed Lucius’ face become a little more serious and wondered if he was perhaps having second thoughts about talking to the poisonous reporter, she honestly couldn’t blame him, if he was.

“Unless of course you have changed your mind, I completely understand if you have…. I”

Lucius saw the concern in her face, he wasn’t about to renege on his agreement with Hermione.

“No, not at all, I haven’t changed my mind, in fact, I find myself somewhat bizarrely looking forward to it. Perhaps I shouldn’t admit to that.”

Lucius took a very small sip of his brandy, Hermione eye’s fixed firmly on him, but he saw no reproach or disapproval in them, not as he had done, the morning he was attempting to drown himself in Firewhiskey. He knew her well enough to realise, she suspected something was bothering him.

“I just feel a little guilty. When you mentioned talking to me, and to the Minister, it reminded me, it is after all the reason why you are here, and that I have done very little as regards talking to you, well about the things you had intended at least.”

Realisation dawned as to what Lucius was referring to, Hermione had become so wrapped up in everything that had happened, but whilst she hadn’t forgotten precisely why she was _supposed_ to be here, she hadn’t exactly set about doing any structured sessions with him, for her Ministry work. If nothing else, she at least needed to keep up the pretence, although as it happened, that pretence was fast beginning to overlap with the other reason she was here, the two were almost merging in to one.  

“Actually, you are wrong.” A sceptical look replaced the smile on Lucius Malfoy’s face.

“I am sure that when you agreed to do _this,_ you had some preconceptions of how it would work, that perhaps I would sit you down, and ask you a barrage of probing and awkward questions.”

This time it was Hermione who wasn’t deceived, she could tell by the look on his face she was right.

“To be honest, I thought exactly the same thing. I too, assumed I would simply sit down and talk to you in a similar way to how I did with the inhabitants of both St Mungo’s and Azkaban.”

Hermione purposely avoided the use of the word patients, technically they were not her patients either, and neither was Lucius, as she had told him before, but that was quite possibly semantics at this point.

“But as I said before, I knew this was a lot to ask of you, and I wanted you to feel as comfortable as you could talking about those things, to be honest, in the end that was my only real structure.”

The sceptical look on Lucius’ face moved towards puzzled, and Hermione realised she wasn’t making herself as clear as she might. She tried again, trying not to sound patronising as she endeavoured to simplify her explanation to Lucius.

“You might find this hard to understand, and I don’t mean that to sound rude in any way, but the conversations we’ve had, even the things which have happened over the last few days, have given me some of that insight I mentioned, and have already helped me to understand a lot more. It doesn’t have to be structured, in the way either of us imagined.”

“I see.” Lucius wasn’t entirely sure he did.

He also worried that he had revealed more than he had hoped, not because he didn’t want Hermione to know those things, but simply because it would bring her stay at the Manor to an end quicker than he had anticipated.

“You feeling guilty is very thoughtful Lucius, and rather sweet, I do appreciate it.”

Sweet and Lucius, now those were words Hermione had never envisaged using in the same breath. But then an awful lot had come to surprise her about this man.

“I know I have spoken of crossing lines, and professionalism, but the ………”

Hermione had to use the word, she was always mindful of his feelings, this time, Lucius could take it and interpret as he wanted……

“The relationship, we have is very different, it changes the parameters. It changes how I talk to you and the way in which we talk to each other, but it doesn’t make the conversation any less productive or useful.”

She hoped she was making more sense, although looking at Lucius, she wasn’t entirely sure she was.

“But by saying that however, I don’t want you thinking that every conversation we have is directly connected to my work, or because of it, that it’s the only reason I am here.”

She was complicating things again.

“Even if I wasn’t here in direct relation to my job, I would still be very interested in you…… in what you had to say.”

Lucius recalled with a wry smile how she had _played_ him _,_ and after her impassioned words, was well aware that it wasn’t just her work which had brought her to Malfoy Manor. Her words today however caught him a little of guard, and they stirred an odd reaction deep within him, it wasn’t very often that Lucius found himself on the receiving end of such complimentary words, the merest of flushes stung his cheeks.

Hermione didn’t miss the flicker of surprise in Lucius’s eyes or the hint of colour which illuminated his pale face. She didn’t regret her frank words or even their implications, perhaps they had been a little too strong, they resonated in Hermione’s own ears, but it was simply the truth, as always, for whatever reason, she had to be that way with him.  Ever since dinner at Aurelia Imperial, no, since way before that, the dark wizard had interested, even fascinated the young witch, it wasn’t the first time she admitted that to herself, she doubted it would be the last.

The way he was with her now, she quite simply loved it, both on a personal and professional level, the way he talked to her, as an equal, and without any real encouragement. How he opened up to her on so many levels, let alone the sexual aspect, he just kept drawing her in, deeper and deeper.   

Hermione saw an odd light twinkle in Lucius expressive eyes, the sceptical, anxiety gone, replaced by something else. If she wasn’t very much mistaken, that odd little twinkle she saw reflected in Lucius’ grey eyes was that recurring, uncertainty, she also noticed the flush which stained his cheeks deepen slightly.

“Draco is away for the weekend.” He said suddenly. “He received an invitation shortly after you left this morning.” His tone was soft, but he spoke without preamble.

The little devil was back and up to its old tricks, neither could resist taking full advantage of the flushed wizard, that uncertainty empowering Hermione, just as it always did.

 “I am assuming that means, there won’t be a _fourth strike?”_

Accompanying a boyish, rather shy smile, the only thing that Hermione saw in Lucius Malfoy’s face now was desire.

 

 

Save the first night that Hermione had been at Malfoy Manor, Lucius had not had another nightmare. Even the one night they had not slept together, the night when Draco had revealed the truth about Narcissa, and remained at the Manor, what sleep he had got, had been nightmare free.

Being woken, some way down the hall, by the screams of a terrified man was one thing, being woken by the screams of a terrified man in the same bed, was something quite different, and a lot more painful in every way.  Hermione woke bleary eyed and startled to the first tortured cry, disorientated she struggled to disengage herself from both Lucius and the bedding, it was at this point, deep in tormented sleep, Lucius had lashed out, the back of his hand catching Hermione square in the mouth. She cried out both in shock and in pain, her teeth piercing the soft flesh of her lower lip, the metallic taste of her own blood filling her mouth. Despite her own discomfort, the young witch had hoped colliding with a solid object, might have roused Lucius into wakefulness, but he remained firmly entrenched in agonised sleep.

As on the previous two occasions, Hermione wasn’t sure if waking Lucius was a good idea or not, although at present getting close enough to wake him, was another thing entirely, his strong, naked arms flaying wildly about the bed, she certainly didn’t want another smack in the face.  This nightmare seemed somehow different to the last two, the first-time Lucius had been very drunk, and in that alcoholic stupor, he was much more sluggish and compliant, pacifying him, even without his knowledge had proved relatively easy. The second time, Hermione had almost managed to weave her way into his nightmare, becoming part of it, all be it, in a good way, and allowing his other desires to take control, and her along with it. This time Lucius certainly wasn’t inebriated, nor was he sexually aroused in any way, he was quite simply petrified, and Hermione wasn’t sure if even she could circumnavigate that sheer terror.

For the briefest of moments, Lucius’ limbs stilled, his body now rigid in its fear. His head continued to move, twisting from side to side, as if he was vehemently saying no to someone. Hermione quickly acciod her wand.

“Lumos.” She said into the darkness of the room, immediately illuminating it with a bright white light.

Leaving her glowing wand on the nightstand, she cast her attention back to Lucius. His face was deathly pale and steeped in fear, even in sleep his eyes, were darkly circled, a sheen of sweat covered his brow and upper body.  Hermione gently brushed her fingers against his body, hoping it might wake him, his recoil from her touch was a violent as the flaying had been.

“Please no don’t.” 

The fear and pleading in his voice was unlike anything she had ever heard, but she knew his words were not meant for her, but for the aggressor that haunted his sleep.

Trying to wake him with touch was clearly not an option this time, it was just distressing him further.  She desperately wanted to sooth him, move the damp tendrils of hair from his pallid face, but she daren’t.  The ear-splitting scream which had woken her from her own sleep a few nights earlier, was heart breaking, to hear it first-hand was even more so, and Hermione desperately fought back tears. Another, pleading _no don’t,_ came with a fresh thrashing of arms and legs, she just wasn’t quick enough to move and this time, being closer than before to the distraught wizard, was caught on the cheek by an elbow, pain searing across her face.  Somehow, she had to try and stop this, she didn’t want to resort to magic, because in truth she wasn’t sure if under such circumstances, it was any better an option than waking Lucius. Patients and inmates had become aggravated, aggressive even with her before, she had simply used a restraining spell or even stupefied them, but they had been awake, fully cognisant of what they were doing, and what was happening. Lucius was deeply asleep, and had no idea what was going on or what he was doing.  Hermione had never used those kinds of spells, on any one in such a condition before, any kind of magic might just prove too dangerous.

She shifted to the edge of the bed watching in her own terror and her own pain as Lucius fought his unseen demons, she physically ached for him.  

“Oh Lucius, Lucius.” Her voice was as wretched as she felt, totally useless, the young witch dragged her hand despairingly through her hair.  The taste of blood and her throbbing cheek only added to her misery.

“I don’t know what to do.” As she spoke Hermione noticed Lucius movements still once more, his head turning in the direction from whence her voice had come.  He’d told her, he had _thought_ he had heard her voice before, through the fug of his nightmare, perhaps even through this clearly much darker one, he could hear her once more. 

Lucius fingers clenched into the bedding, so tightly his knuckles were almost as white as the sheets beneath his pain wracked body. He moved against them, tearing at them harder, once more trying to escape his aggressor.

“Please…I can’t no…please.”

The expensive cotton was bunched between his fingers, so tightly, Hermione thought it might rip. Her own anguish sent her mind, blank, save reassuring Lucius, she was here, Hermione did not know what to say, even mindless drivel seemed to have deserted her.

“Lacewing flies, stewed, leeches, powdered bicorn horn.” The recipe for Polyjuice potion, for some strange reason popped into Hermione’s head. She began to recite the ingredients, in a very soft reassuring voice.

“Knotgrass, fluxweed, picked at full moon, shredded boomslang wing.”

As the last item slipped from her lips, Hermione noticed Lucius’ hands slacken slightly against the material, and she scrambled around her brain for something else to say. It obviously didn’t matter what she said to him, it was just her voice and its tone which seemed to be reaching him, much as it did a baby or even animal, it picked up on the reassuring sound, not the words themselves.  For someone who had exceeded expectations in potions, Hermione couldn’t think of a single other one, instead a nursey rhyme from her childhood, found its way into her mind.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are! Up above the world so high. Like a diamond in the sky.”

Again, she adopted that same lyrical, yet soothing tone.  This time it was Lucius breathing which seemed to react to her, no longer laboured and shallow, it returned to a steady, normal pace.

Hermione took a chance and slipped back beneath the bed clothes, edging carefully towards Lucius sleeping form.  She didn’t touch him in any way, but got close enough to feel the clammy heat emanating from his body, she plumped her pillows behind her head, so she could continue to talk, all the while keeping a close eye on him.  He said something she couldn’t quite fathom, muffled by the damp hair, which was still strewn across his anguished face.

It was an odd assortment of things which spilled into Hermione’s brain, a complicated potion, a childhood song, she wished she was in her own room, there was a book on her nightstand, she could at least have read from that, it didn’t matter that it almost fell into the Muggle pot boiler category. It would have been a continuous supply of words. It was one of her favourite books, a strange thought to have at this moment, it came with a legend, something Hermione had thankfully committed to memory many years before.

 “There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in its life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth.” 

Lucius moved his head towards her, Hermione tentatively reached out and without actually touching him, lifted the blonde hair from his face. All the while she continued to rhythmically speak.

“From the moment it leaves the nest it searches for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches, it impales itself upon the longest, sharpest spine.”

The agonised screams and pleading cries, became gentle murmuring, and Hermione slid down a little more into the bed.

“And, dying, it rises above its own agony to outcarol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price.” Lucius moved suddenly and Hermione flinched, worried that she would again be struck, indeed his arm did come into contact with her, but this time it fell across her midriff as the sleeping wizard moved towards the comforting voice and warm figure of the young witch.

Relief flooded her body, her own breathing returning to normal as he moved against her, his long, damp mane of hair spilling across her breasts as his head came to rest, peacefully against them.  Her hand was shaking as she stroked the uncharacteristically tangled length, confident that Lucius would not lash out again, and that the worse of his nightmare was now thankfully over.

“But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the cost of great pain… Or so says the legend.”

Hermione extinguished her wand, once more cloaking the room in darkness. With her free hand, she pulled the bed clothes up to cover Lucius, his powerful back, cold and damp with sweat, she allowed her hand to rest there, the other continued to reassuringly stroke his head, it was a gentle, rhythmic gesture which lulled them both back into sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	75. Bruises Healing And Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So lets see who wakes up first .........

 

After Lucius’ comments the previous afternoon, Hermione had not expected to wake and find the bed next to her devoid of the dark wizard. Whatever she had envisaged a cold empty space, was not it……...

Instinct told her the void was not a visit to the bathroom, nor was it a fourth untimely interruption from Draco. As the bright spring sunshine lit the room, Hermione recalled with frightening, and heart sinking clarity, that very first morning in the hotel. Her eyes were immediately drawn towards the windows, but they fell upon Lucius before reaching the paned glass. He sat at the foot of the large bed, the twisted bedding caught across his waist, leaving his upper body bare. Hermione could see only his back from her position, his shoulders were hunched, his usually sleek blonde hair, disarrayed from sleep as it fell about them, and his proud head bowed. His handsome, sad face was reflected in the cheval mirror, which stood in the corner of the room. Her heart sank and lurched all at the same time, something had clearly distressed him, she could see it in the eyes which stared, sightlessly into the mirror. Perhaps he had recalled his nightmare.

Despite everything that had transpired between them, both physically and in conversation, despite the fact they had shared a bed on several occasions now, the young witch wasn’t sure their relationship stretched as far as comforting Lucius Malfoy, not in the way she wanted to, that felt, ridiculously, too personal. In a typical morning gesture, Hermione rubbed her hand across her face, immediately flinching at the sensitivity her fingers encountered. Her cheek felt bruised and tender, her lip sore and more than a little swollen. She too recalled Lucius’ frantic nightmare, and her heart sank just a little bit further.

“That was not done in pleasure or in passion.” His words were bitter and pained as he caught Hermione’s eye in the mirror.

How stupid she was, not casting a healing charm before she went to sleep. Her face obviously looked as bad as it felt, she imagined her lip was clearly quite swollen, and knowing how easily her skin marked, the bruise across her cheek, was no doubt quite colourful. Lucius had obviously woken up before her and had been horrified at what he saw. Whist he might not recall his nightmare, or his actions with any lucidity, he would know that when they went to bed, she did not look like this.

Whatever their _relationship,_ was or wasn’t, whatever it did or didn’t stretch to, as far as comforting Lucius, it rapidly became irrelevant. Hermione sat up sharply, scooting across the bed, she found herself once more swathed in the bedding, it gave her another odd sense of déjà vu, taking her back once again, to that very first morning in the hotel, when she had confronted Lucius in a sheet. It also gave her a strange feeling of confidence, she had not been afraid then, now with all that had happened, with all that she knew, she felt even more sure of herself, and she was certainly not going to tread on occamy shells this time, nor of course was she going to lie to him, or sugar coat things in any way.

“You are quite right Lucius.” She said, coming up close behind him, her slim hand resting against his naked back. She felt him flinch at her touch as he moved slightly away. She wasn’t going to be deterred, knowing exactly where his thoughts were taking him.

“These marks were inflicted in deep sleep, in pain and in sheer terror.” Her hands moved softly and reassuringly as they so often did, over his skin, coming to rest on his broad shoulders. Other than getting up and moving fully away, there was nowhere for Lucius to go.

“They were not done purposely, or with malicious intent. Nor were they directed at me.”

“You still suffered at my hands, _again._ I still lashed out, I hit……” His voice cracked.

Lucius felt Hermione’s fingers bite into the flesh on his shoulders, his pained pale grey eyes, once more met those defiant, warm brown in the mirror.

“No Lucius, I didn’t. You didn’t knowingly hit me because of… whatever. You were fighting off someone, or something in deep, frightened sleep. This isn’t your fault.”

Hermione felt him tense beneath her fingers, she knew she had a fight on her hands, convincing him of this.

“You cannot keep on defending me. Not this time when you wear the proof of my…….”

“Of your what Lucius?” Hermione cut him off abruptly, not wishing to hear what he thought he had done. She knew the truth and would not allow him to think otherwise, or to punish himself in this way.

“Of your fear, of your need to defend yourself against someone, or something. You did not strike Hermione Granger.” She paused, needing her words to really hit home.  “Did you knowingly strike ME?”

He looked up sharply, their eyes still only connected through the mirror. “No of course….”

“NO!” Again, Hermione curtailed his words. “No, you didn’t.” Her tone softened considerably, as did the grip she had on his shoulders. “Do you remember who or what it was?”

Lucius didn’t break their eye contact as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Hermione moved closer, so her body was just about touching him, the only thing between them, a very thin, cool layer of expensive cotton. One hand moved from his shoulder, to his long blonde hair, the urge to stroke its length, as compelling as ever.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Lucius leaned wearily, against the soft form which sat behind him, through the mirror he looked deeply into those warm brown eyes, but avoided looking at her face, and at what he had done to her. In his mind, he understood what she was saying to him, but it did not appease his heart, for the physical pain he had inflicted upon her.

“I don’t know if I can.”

Finally looking once more at her bruised and battered face, Lucius realised if nothing else he owed her an explanation, whatever it might cost him.

“I don’t remember, everything, but….” His aristocratic voice cracked once more.

He had recounted memories to Hermione before, things he never imaged ever being able to tell another living soul, but most of those recollections, in one way or another, he had come to terms with, accepted even. Somehow this was very different.

The sweet, beautiful, discoloured and sore face which looked understandingly back at him, as always touched him in a way nothing else had ever done.  He still asked himself why, why that was the case, and why she would even want to.  She had told him on more than one occasion, in different ways, he deserved another chance, looking at the same sweet, beautiful, discoloured and sore face, he doubted that more than ever, whatever her reassurances were.

The gentle warmth of her body flowed into the cold of his, and Lucius took a deep breath. It still amazed him how much they had shared, how much he had so willingly shared with the young witch. The terrors that haunted his dreams and seeped into his days, were quite possibly the reasons why she was here, it was that first-hand insight she was looking for, he knew, but he had promised he would talk to her, but fear once more sent and icy chill through his veins, tension tightening his muscles.

Even though she was barely touching him, Hermione could feel the coolness of Lucius’ body and the tautness that emanated from him, she was drawn yet closer. Any concerns she had about their relationship and how to comfort him, had long since faded. The hand that had gently stroked his long flaxen hair slid around him, the powerful muscle of his upper arm resting in the crook of hers as it stretched across his broad chest. Her other arm came to meet it, circling him in a loose but reassuring embrace. With her head resting against his, she looked back at him in the mirror, that same soft encouraging smile, lighting her face and her eyes.  Lucius grasped her hand, and for one awful moment she thought he was going to pull it away, instead with a distant and sad look in his pale grey eyes, he lifted it slowly to his lips and brushed them across it.  There were those odd feelings again, the ones she kept promising herself, she would deal with later. From within that powerful frame of his, Hermione felt and sensed Lucius’ reticence to speak, her arms tightened across his chest, her cheek still pressed to the side of his.

“Was the nightmare of Azkaban.” Her voice was soft but her tone assertive.

Lucius’ eyes although, still sad and distant, held hers in the mirror, even through the pain of recalling his nightmare, the merest of smiles tugged at his lips, the image which looked back at him was unbelievable, almost as if he were still asleep, only this time it was a blissful dream he found invading his sleep. Never in his wildest of dreams, would he have expected, to see such a sight reflected at him. Himself and young witch Hermione Granger, in a state of semi nakedness, upon his bed, her arms wrapped, almost protectively across his chest. This really could be nothing else but a dream. As he felt Hermione’s fingers gently brush his chest, Lucius knew he wasn’t dreaming. She’d spoken to him, asked him a question, he drew his mind back.

“In a way, it was.”  His grip tightened around Hermione’s other hand. “Although I was here, asleep in my bed, but as always, the dementors came. They were all around, filling the room, drifting above the bed, imbuing the room with cold rancid air, trying to take me back.”

Hermione felt him shudder against her, his chest heaving beneath her hands at the fearful recollection.

“I tell them no, beg for them not to take me back there, but they close in on me, their icy breath drawing everything from me.” Lucius’ grasp tightened still further upon Hermione, he felt her free hand firmly against his chest, the fingers resting where his heart beat uncontrollably.

“Their skeletal fingers touch my skin and I try to fight them off.” Lucius realised in trying to fight off the loathsome creatures, he must have struck out at Hermione. Beneath the concern on her face, was an, I told you so, look.

“I am no longer in my warm, comfortable bed, I hear the chains of Azkaban rattle in my ears, peppered with the rush of the wind and the crashing of the sea, I am terrified to open my eyes because I know I will waken to those dank dark walls.”

Hermione might have only spent a few hours incarcerated in fortress like prison, but she recalled those chilling sounds with her own frightening clarity. The sense of foreboding they instilled, she could still feel it now, still feel that ominous sense of nothing that washed over you, as the sea crashed against the wall, hundreds of feet below.

“Those sounds alone bring their own terrors, without the dementors. You feel it closing in around you with such oppression, that horrible sense of there being nothing else.” 

She stopped herself, not wanting to take over Lucius’ story, or stopping anything else he might have to say.

“You felt it too, and in such a short time.” His voice sounded desperate, but relieved.

“At least you knew in a few short hours, your nightmare would end, for me it was infinite. I never knew where one day ended and another began, I lost all sense of time. I didn’t want to know, in the end I didn’t care. Some days I hoped I wouldn’t wake up, the prospect so much better than the torture which lie ahead.”

Hermione felt the sting of tears prick her eyes at Lucius’ frank words, his heart beat so fast beneath her fingers, she found herself covering it, trying to slow it down.

“The thought of being there, of going back to that, makes my nightmares even darker, even more terrifying, I want to leave them behind, but then I fear waking up, still finding myself in one, still finding myself cold, chained and alone.”

Hermione saw a brightness reflected in Lucius’ eyes, one she had never seen before. She had seen emotion in their depths, but she had never seen the shining of tears. She continued to fight her own, swallowing hard to control them. The dark wizard’s voice faltered as he continued to speak.

 “That awful sense of the unknown…. it engulfs me all over again, this time the unknown of what I will find when I open my eyes. The first morning you were here, when I woke and you weren’t there, I thought you had been a dream, but you were so real and then you were there, so real, something so beautiful to wake up to. I don’t know what……and then this morning…. I.”

His words came out all of a rush, and Hermione couldn’t help but wonder what Lucius had been about to say, but she didn’t question him, instead she concentrated on soothing his fears, and assuring him.

“Lucius, don’t, you just said it yourself. In sleep, in your nightmares, you were fighting off dementors.” She could tell by the look in his eyes he knew what she was saying, but he was still not convinced.

“I knew you had nightmares, I had been in this room twice, when you were deeply in the throes of one, I had seen you thrashing around. I didn’t think that just because I was in your bed they would cease, there was always a chance I might be….in the way”

Again, she saw the uncertainty in his eyes. Placating him in this manner wasn’t working. The sharp thinking young witch tried a different kind of logic.

“Supposing it had been me? I was the one who suffered a nightmare, perhaps being back in this house, had sparked them off, I’d struck you in my sleep, lashed out. Split those soft lips of yours, blackened your eye, maybe even broken that aristocratic nose of yours. Would you be convinced I’d done it purposely?”

Despite himself, the seriousness of the situation and the awfulness of his nightmares, the dark wizard had to smile at her analogy at perhaps how he might have look this morning. He could not deny her words, and much as he wanted to continue to torture and blame himself for the swelling of her beautiful mouth and the discolouration of her flawless skin, he couldn’t. Of course, as always Hermione Granger had a point, and she was right.  The words refused to come, Lucius just shook his blonde head, once more raising her hand to his lips, this time in gratitude. Once more the question raced through his mind, how was he ever going to let her leave this house, and walk out of his life. Everything was so much more bearable with her presence, and it certainly made more sense.

For the first time, he turned to face her, looking directly into those fiery, but warm chocolate brown depths.  His eyes fell to the bruise on her cheek, he raised his hand to her face, his thumb tenderly moving over the darkened flesh. Lucius muttered an ancient charm his mother had used many a time, on the badly bruised, knees, elbow and sometimes chins, of an offspring too eager and a tad too young to be learning how to ride a broomstick. He watched as the purply black, faded once more to Hermione’s creamy skin. The back of his forefinger trailed across her cheek, moving to the swollen redness of her soft mouth, a tiny fragment of dried blood, congealed at its corner, it flaked to his delicate touch.

“Episkey.” He said his eyes now fixed firmly back on hers.

Hermione had felt only a slight tingling in her cheek at Lucius first muttered utterance, the tell-tale feel of bruising, vanishing instantly. With his second more audible word, her lip felt very hot, then very cold, his finger remained against the flesh, that was no longer sore or swollen.

“Will they ever go away?” His usually sharp noble tone was as clipped as ever, but totally despondent.

Hermione had known very little about nightmares, when she had encountered Lucius’ first one. Before that, the only person she knew who had had one, was Harry, and he had assured her he had just had a bad dream, when he woken startled and a little disorientated at the burrow, just before the Quidditch World Cup, and truthfully, she had thought nothing more of it. After that awful nightmare, she had walked in on Lucius having, Hermione had felt a little ashamed of how little she did know, as clearly, they were very much connected to her work and the people she dealt with. Hermione being Hermione, she had made it her business to find out more, but more, didn’t give her any instant answers or any quick fixes.  What she had discovered was really what she already knew, that helping Lucius come to terms with everything else, would ease them. Putting that into words, that would not upset him anymore was not that easy.

Her prolonged silence frightened Lucius, he feared the answer she was going to give him was not what he wanted to hear.

“There is no reason why they shouldn’t.” Her own voice sounded a little clinical, even to her own ears.

The response was better than he had hoped, but she was holding something back, he could see it in her eyes. 

“There is something else.” His voice remained hushed, and he remained a little scared as Hermione nodded.

His fingers remained, gently against her mouth and this time it was Hermione who brushed her lips to them.

“I have alarmed you, I didn’t intend to do that. It’s just a little difficult to explain, simply.”

Hermione knew simple explanations were not her forte at the best of times.

Lucius savoured the feel of her lips against his fingertips, it seemed to quell his anxieties, another of those tiny touches, which touched him so deeply and that he was loathe to relinquish.

“Things that bother us in sleep, often bother us whilst we are awake, we just don’t realise it. It is a bit like our subconscious telling us we need to deal with something.  Maybe because whilst we are awake, we bury it, pretended that it doesn’t exist, hoping that it will go away and never come back, then it does, in the form of a nightmare.”

She looked at Lucius, his face was unreadable.

Hermione had to be so careful, she did not want to imply there was anything wrong with him, he would never accept that, obviously, his brain, his subconscious, and his nightmares were telling him a very different story.

“I don’t know how to deal with them.”

His admission was totally unexpected and his request caught Hermione even more off guard.

“I have no right to ask this, I don’t know if you can, or would even want to…..but….”

The formidable dark wizard, looked anything but. A boyish embarrassment encompassing him.

“Would you help me?”

 

Draco coming to her and asking her for help with his father had been one thing. Lucius himself asking was something else entirely, was almost beyond belief, from this man of all people. Hermione was torn between wanting to whoop for joy and burst into tears. Professionalism thankfully kicked in.

“If that is what you want Lucius. I will try.”

Lucius simply nodded, again fearing that words would fail him.  His admission to Hermione, might appear weak for a former Death Eater, but the man now, had to admit, even if it was only to the young witch, it was true enough, and talking to her that had become even more evident. He didn’t know how to deal with the feelings that swirled around in his head, that made him sick to his stomach. And, without drowning himself in alcohol, he certainly had no idea how to confront or eradicate the demons that haunted his sleep. His request for her help was however twofold, of course he wanted it, Merlin alone knew he needed it, but at heart, Lucius Malfoy was a cunning Slytherin, he knew if she did agree, Hermione Granger would not allow any half measures, that much about the  young woman once called the Gryffindor Princess, the brightest witch of her age, had not changed since she was a child. She would therefore, not be walking out of the manor or his life anytime soon.  

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey "guys" lots of big thanks yous as always for your lovely comments. Welcomes to new readers which is still lovely to see and for which I am equally grateful. I NEVER anticipated this fic being SOOOOO long. I for one am not a fan of long fics, if often puts me off reading when I see so many chapters, so I really am very grateful for you all of you still being there, and for those new readers having to catch up on so much :-) Apologies of course as always for anything you see that I obviously haven't...
> 
> I hope you to continue to enjoy and of continue to review cos I love that.


	76. A Very Different Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always my delighted and grateful thanks for kudos and comments. A happy welcome to new readers. And as always grovelling apologies for any cock ups......talking of which.......:-) enjoy ........

 

“Can I tell you something Hermione?”

Despite everything that had transpired between them, Hermione found it a strange question, with no idea of its foundation. Considering some of the things Lucius had already shared with her, the young witch was extremely curious.

“Of course, Lucius, you know that, anything at all.”

It suddenly occurred to her, in view of how he had been betrayed previously, and by his own wife, he might of course be wary that their conversation would not remain private. If a woman he had shared so much of his life with, did not think twice about treating the man she was supposed to love, in this fashion, then what was to stop a woman he hardly knew, and, who up until very recently was his enemy. A few nights in his bed, a shared conversation or two, did not earn unconditional trust.

“Perhaps considering what has happened, you would like me to make a vow of some kind, enter a binding contract.”

Lucius was already shaking his head, after the pain she had seen etched on his handsome features, it was joy to see him smile so genuinely.

“A part of me would enjoy entering into such a contract or vow with you Hermione, but after everything you have already done for me, are prepared to do, your loyalty and your discretion need no such affirmation.”

His heartfelt words, in that rich silky voice, drifted under her skin, resonating deeply within her. Who would have thought Lucius Malfoy, would ever say such things to her or that she would enjoy hearing them quite so much?

He leaned closer, his hand touching her face, his fingers were strong and warm as they cupped her now, bruise free cheek, his thumb tracing the bone where the angry mark had discoloured her milky skin. For a moment, they just stared at each other, absorbing each other and what had happened. The tip of his forefinger moved to her bottom lip, tracing its softness. As her lips parted, his finger tip now moved against the soft healed flesh inside.

“Anyway.” Lucius spoke softly, not breaking the moment entirely but gently returning to his original question. “What I wanted to say, is actually about _you.”_

“Me?” The surprise in her tone seemed to amuse the dark wizard, that amusement lacing his honeyed tones as he continued to speak.

“Yes, my dear Miss Hermione Granger, you.”

His eyes glittered with crystal intensity, behind the amusement in his voice, she saw something more serious and she became even more intrigued.

“Well I suppose that would depend on the authenticity of the information.”

The seriousness Hermione saw lurking behind the humour was edged with apprehension, and she knew he was stepping outside his comfort zone with what he intended to say.

“Unlike previous reporting, this comes first hand from the source.”

A tiny smile lifted the corner of the young witch’s mouth, the reference not lost on her, Lucius ever the articulate wordsmith.

“As always Lucius, I am a firm advocate of the truth and plain speaking.”

Without warning, he suddenly turned away from her, his strong back again facing her, her rather shocked, anxious eyes meeting his once more in the mirror which stood in the corner of the room.

“A few weeks ago, just after we met at the Ministry of Magic event, I was in this room, I was ….my thoughts drifted to you, the very grown up Hermione Granger.”

The shock and anxiety of his movement flew away and Hermione moved closer, her curiosity rife once more, especially as she sensed, Lucius had definitely shifted outside of talking about things he felt comfortable with.

“That very beautiful, very young, but very grown up woman, had stirred more than just my interest.”

Hermione felt a deep flush creep across her face, as a little thrill danced up her spine. For such an admission, she would normally have had a pithy rejoinder, but she sensed something a lot more profound in Lucius’ words, instead of speaking she shifted closer, just as before her body barely touching his. His eyes held hers fixedly in the mirror, something told her it was easier for him this way.

“It had been a **_very_** long time since I had felt anything like that. I chastised myself severely for such folly and now I look in that same mirror and you too look back at me, naked, from my own bed.”

Hermione, had only been doing her job for a short time, but one thing she had become somewhat of an expert in, was knowing when someone was holding back. When they had intended to tell her something and had then, stopped short, decided against it, or changed it completely.  Right now, she knew Lucius Malfoy had done precisely that.  She had no idea why, but quite literally the position she was in, gave her the courage to push it, to push him, she certainly had no intention of letting him off.

Lucius saw the look on Hermione’s face, it was oddly like the one Draco used to pull as a toddler, a mixture of petulance and anger, bottom lip slightly protruding.

“I have offended you with……”  His concerns were immediately dismissed as her arms slid back across his chest.

“No, not at all.” Hermione cut in, her lips brushing his shoulder in one of those, unnervingly, perhaps overly familiar gestures which came all too easily and with more frequency.

“I just feel like a child, having been read a bedtime story, but to get to the end quickly you missed a big chunk out.”  Hermione felt, his heart rate increase beneath her palm, his own hand coming to cover hers.

Just as she had felt the acceleration of his heart, Hermione felt a small resigned rumble of laughter emanate from his chest, an almost disbelieving look met her in the mirrored glass.

“Your perception is quite scary, as is how well you have come to know me. The missing chunk, as you call it, I felt would have been improper. The naked, sad, pathetic, old man which looked mockingly back at me that day, was testament to that.”

Hermione had a feeling she could fill in that missing chunk, but she didn’t have a mind to do so, nor did she want to dwell on, or question the darkness and bitterness that had slipped into his words. This was all very much part of what was going on in Lucius’ head, getting him to talk freely and in more depth about this was just as just as key, as his nightmares or his time in Azkaban. She also got the distinct impression he was judging himself too harshly.  Lucius had chastised himself, tortured himself for many things, that much was evident. She was not going to allow him to do so for thinking about her.  Carefully, Hermione kept her response light and a little flirtatious.

“Hmm, well first of all, as we have said previously, thanks to two, completely different upbringings, you and I have **_very_** different interpretations of, proper. And secondly you, naked, sad, pathetic and old, are not words I personally would put in the same sentence.”

Lucius hand squeezed hers, the action speaking volumes. She pushed him just a little bit more.

“Why did you _chastise_ yourself severely for _such folly,_ as you put it?”

This time Hermione didn’t need to feel Lucius’ laughter, his cold humourless mirth echoed around the room.

“Because, I was, am, a much older man. A man you despised, and with good reason. I was ar.. aroused by a very young woman, one who was at school with my son, who was just being polite to me because of who and where she was. It was folly to think anything else, I was a fool.”

Hermione could have countered his words with any number of arguments of her own, instead as a little sarcasm crept into her response, she found her mind going down a very strange route….

“Very foolish indeed Lucius, and yet here I am naked in your bed, _again_.” She saw the tiniest flicker of a smile cross his lips.

“Anyway, that aside, we are all entitled to a little sexual fantasy, however _old_ we are. That is hardly improper, although telling the person concerned, might be deemed so in some quarters.” She left words in the air, clearly leaving room for debate, when it came to what _quarter_ she might be in.

 Against her own chest, and beneath her fingers, Hermione once again felt Lucius’ reaction, as he took a slow, measured breath.

“After everything, Azkaban, the war, Narcissa, my body’s needs were immaterial, I couldn’t even remember the last time I had enjoyed a feeling of sexual excitement.”

Hermione couldn’t help herself, when she again asked Lucius the question.

“So why chastise yourself for it, I don’t understand?” In truth, she didn’t, but she wanted to and she wanted Lucius to tell her.

Hermione searched the mirror for Lucius’ eyes, they were there, but for the first time, would not meet hers.

“I should be able to control those urg…. impulses. Imagining a scenario with someone is one thing…...but, indulging in…… I am a grown man Hermione, not an adolescent boy.  I did not need to make myself any more pathetic than I already was.”

This time it was a rather hollow laugh of Hermione’s which permeated the room, she bit her lip instantly, chiding herself for her thoughtlessness. The look on his face, whilst not exactly angry was not best pleased, he was hurt and more than a little confused.  She really wasn’t laughing at him, but it was the 21st century, and she found it almost impossible to believe that someone could still have such archaic views on these things.

“I am sorry Lucius, I was not laughing at you…. It’s just….”

Pussy footing around, or dressing this conversation up wasn’t going to work, it didn’t exactly come under the heading of the Malfoy resolve, but it was certainly up there.  She had no intention ridiculing what this man had been brought up to believe, but if this was a school report, the words, room for improvement wouldn’t go amiss. Hermione thought carefully for a brief moment, using herself was always at the forefront of such situations with Lucius. She stuck with it, along with her usual forthrightness.

“So, thinking about me had aroused you.” She summarised, adopting a rather schoolma’amish tone in her voice. She felt and heard him take a sharp intake of breath, his eyes still not meeting hers.

“A feeling you hadn’t enjoyed in a very long time, but because you weren’t a boy, you would deny yourself pleasure by your own hand?”

Hermione was going to say masturbation, but she was shocking him quite enough, going beyond his propriety already, that might have been a step, or a word too far.  Her tone had softened slightly assuring him she was not being judgemental.  Lucius had allowed her to stimulate his body in this way, yet for some inexplicable reason, it was obviously, not since the days of his youth, something which the dark wizard had done for himself. Hermione enjoyed shocking him from time to time, also, because it made him think outside of his closeted pureblood world. His use of the word, improper, meant it was simply a view he had, views could be changed, given the right inducements……

 

Lucius shook his head, his blonde hair tumbling across his shoulder. Hermione pushed it to one side, tugging it somewhat as she peered over his shoulder, forcing him to finally meet her gaze in the mirror.  For a moment, she studied his face, his expression a little forlorn but otherwise unreadable. Hermione found her mind rushing rather quickly down that _odd_ route once more, the little devil wasn’t too far behind this time. Lucius had opened this door, all be it only partially, but it had obviously been something which had been playing on his mind or he would not have brought it up. Whatever his reason, he’d wanted to say something to her, talk to her about it.  She would take him slowly down this _odd route_ with her and see where it went, in her own way of course.

 “I have to say Lucius I admire your willpower.”

Their eyes were locked once more, hers twinkling naughtily, his still tinged with an air of shock.  Hermione slid her hand out from under Lucius’, now covering his with it.

“I must confess, I am not sure I would have had so much self-control had I been in your situation.”

She noticed his eyes widen, the infinitesimal raising of a brow and the slight flaring of his nostrils.

“I suppose as always it comes back to our different backgrounds, maybe our difference in age.”

Lucius had noticed Hermione’s tone had lowered slightly, her voice a little quieter and much softer as she spoke.  Her reaction to his admission, had not exactly been as he’d imagined, but as always, her reaction made him feel more comfortable, the small burst of laughter aside, that was.  His tone too, was soft.

“I would not imagine you lacking in self-discipline Hermione.”

 Lucius’ hand was being slowly moved by the young witch, he was barely aware of it.

“Usually, I am not. Apparently, it is something I have by the bucket load, or so I have been told. But sometimes for the good of your mind, you simply have to give in to the demands of your body.”

There was another of those mirthless rumbles of laughter in Lucius chest: “I thought you would be disgusted by what I told you, instead you give me reason.”

Lucius breath hitched a little as Hermione’s hand guided his away from his chest and onto his thigh, her other came to do the same.

“I don’t find it disgusting Lucius, why on earth would I?” Like many of Lucius’ old world values, Hermione found it a little sad that someone like him, would think such a thing.

“Sex is no different to any other basic need we have. Our minds can be totally overwhelmed by anything our body craves, food, sleep, and even sex. It’s easy to become distracted because of that need, sometimes you simply have to give in to it.”

Hermione was tempted to leave it there, but Lucius Malfoy had a tell, that tell told her, he wasn’t convinced.  She stuck with light and frank……

“Satisfying …. that need might not always be, in what is considered the _normal or conventional_ way, but sometimes you just have to take what you can get.” Her voice was matter of fact.

“You might want a cauldron cake, but have to make do with a liquorice wand, you’re exhausted and just want your own comfortable bed, half an hour on the sofa is better than nothing.”

Hermione wasn’t sure she should finish her analogies, but the little devil was egging her on, and well it was kind of the point. She broached it a little more reservedly.

“Sex, well that maybe a little more taboo for some people, and I get that.” The little devil gave her a shove.

“But for me it’s the liquorice wand, the sofa, and I don’t consider myself, disgusting, sad or pathetic because of it. It is simply a far more personal thing, than eating or sleeping.”

Lucius hadn’t thought about it like that, comparing the desire for sex to other bodily needs. But, sleeping and eating had never made him feel weak or pitiful. Giving in to them, didn’t make him feel that he was lacking as a man, but then Hermione hadn’t been around to tell him otherwise.  Just as she said it was a little more taboo and far more personal, but it didn’t stop her talking to him about it……

Lucius mind was becoming distracted by, not only the image Hermione had put in his head, but by her body against his back, he hadn’t noticed it before, but now just as she said, his mind was becoming overwhelmed with something his body wanted. Looking fully into the mirror, he suddenly realised, she wasn’t there. It wasn’t an enchantment of any kind, her small frame was now simply and completely obscured by his much larger one, and the cotton bedding which had once been modestly draped over his lower body.

“Can I tell you something Lucius.?”

He could no longer nod and meet her eyes in the long mirror, Lucius was forced to speak. He did so, his voice a little husky as he responded to the same question he’d posed a few moments before.

“Of course, Hermione, anything at all.”

She moved flush to him as she spoke, her long slender legs alongside his, her pert breasts against his back, her feminine heat, hot against his arse.

“I like that you thought of me before we even had dinner, and I find it incredibly erotic that in thinking about me you became aroused, but…...”

Her pause was deliberate and calculated hoping Lucius would bite, he didn’t disappoint her, and she loved the rather surprised rasping tone with which he asked.

“But what?”

“Would you still deny yourself that pleasure now?”

She felt the shock vibrate through him, at the same time he moved against her, excitement raced through her body, arousal pooling between her legs at their proximity, there wasn’t a hairs breadth between their flesh.  Hermione moved one of Lucius’ hands towards his groin, her fingers covering his, ghosting them over his burgeoning erection.  A small gasp echoed around the room, it increased as she continued to guide his hand with her own.

“Possibly.” His voice sounded more clipped than ever, as the word came out amidst of rush of breath at his, or was it her touch.

“Why?” She persisted, all the time continuing to manipulate both his hand and his erection.

Lucius knew that his reasons now were so very different, the honesty that only came when talking to Hermione, was ever present.

His voice sounded incredibly husky as he spoke.

 “For very different reasons now.”

Being unable to see Hermione, only feel her, Lucius felt somehow as if he were talking to himself, it gave him the nerve to be even more frank than he usually was with the young witch.

“Then it seemed to reiterate that I really was just a sad, pathetic old man, deluding myself of so many things. The image looking back at me from the mirror seemed to be laughing at me, taunting me. Reminding me of the pitiful excuse of a man I was reduced to.”

He couldn’t dwell on those feelings, not right now, and Hermione was not allowing him to, her hand tightening over his own, moving it the length of his cock.  Lucius savoured that feeling alone, his eyes drifting shut: “Now it’s because it will never feel as good as this.”

Hermione didn’t miss a single word that Lucius said, she still didn’t agree with what he was saying, but as his body swelled to now, what was just his own touch, it wasn’t the time to debate it.  

As she wrapped herself about the dark wizard, she had cleverly adjusted their positions, only very slightly, but now she could see his reflection in the mirror, he however could not see her.

“But I am no longer touching you.”

Lucius Malfoy’s eyes opened, so wrapped in the glorious sensation moving through his body, he hadn’t become aware that she had relinquished her guiding and caressing hand over his, that fact that two soft hands rested against his thighs, whilst his now rigid cock continued to be gently stimulated was somehow irrelevant.  He could of course feel Hermione, he could even smell her feminine scent, but looking only in the mirror, she was wholly obscured from his line of sight, it was if he was simply imagining her presence. Lucius couldn’t withhold a somewhat rueful smile, realising what she had done and that she had no intention of moving. Hermione would remain, enticingly wrapped around him and masked from his view in the mirror.  

The reflection that did look back at him from the long antique mirror, looked exactly the same as the one from those few short weeks ago. The same sleek mane of blonde hair, framing his aristocratic face. Those penetrating grey eyes sparkled, still they missed nothing, still they saw the well-toned body of an _older_ man, but Lucius Malfoy wasn’t old. Instead of a discarded towel at his feet, he sat amidst an array of crumpled white bedding. Just as before, his long elegant fingers grasped his ample erection, moving slowly up and down the hard, silky flesh, there was nothing pathetic about it.  Pleasure coursed through his body, seeping into every vein, another strong movement of his fingers, sent another rush arousal pulsating through his cock, the tip oozing with his own pleasure, it spilled into his hand and he coated his shaft with the glistening natural lubricant.  He sucked in sharply at his own touch, allowing the breath to escape in a gentle hiss as his hand moved slowly from base to tip.

Hermione watched, totally enthralled, more than a little amazed, and aroused beyond belief. She might have complimented Lucius on his will-power, but it took every ounce she possessed, not to reach around and touch him in any way, or to move more harshly against him to satisfy her own burning need.  How on earth could Lucius, have denied himself this pleasure was beyond her, the fact he was doing so now, and as she watched, was almost unimaginable. His fingers continued to move deftly over his beautiful hard flesh, Hermione tried to stifle a moan, it escaped her lips but was absorbed by the guttural noise which fell from Lucius’ mouth. The sound alone increased Hermione’s arousal, her feminine heat pulsing against the swell of his arse.

He should have been inhibited by her mere presence, shouldn’t he? He should have been embarrassed by what he was doing, shouldn’t he? Only a very tiny part of his brain told him he should, the remainder of it just encouraged him, was driven harder by it. That she was here, and it occurred to Lucius, more than like watching every move he made. A clever shift in position, and some very rumpled sheets, shielding her like a cloak of invisibility, aroused Lucius in a way nothing had done before. Touching himself in this manner was nothing like that curious pleasuring of his youth. This time the face which looked back at him from the mirror was neither disdainful or disgusted. Untainted pleasure, flushed his normally white cheeks, and lit his eyes, this time Lucius was not shamed by his actions. He surrendered to the incomprehensible joy and desire flooding every fibre of his being, carried along by a need he had only recently become accustomed to feeling, a need that came from the young witch, so carefully crafted around him, like some magical aura.  An aura which had skilfully guided him, adeptly but softly goaded him, gently stimulated him and cunningly incited him.

Lucius knew he couldn’t stop now even if he wanted to, his fingers tightly furled around his own rigid skin, the lustful anticipation that had seeped onto his fingers now coating his shaft, heightening the sensation.  He found his breath catching at his own slow, measured strokes. Hermione filled his thoughts, how she had touched him, tasted him, how she had felt to his own touch, it was that which drove his actions. Those things were all clearly etched in his mind’s eye, her body pressed intimately at his back was not what drew his fingers tighter against his own body.  His breathing was heavier, his eyes bright almost glazed, Lucius slackened his grasp, allowing himself the sensation of anticipation once more.

He imagined Hermione’s perfect mouth licking and sucking his flesh, before it really had just been something he could only but imagine, now he knew only too well the delights it held. He brushed his fingertips over the glistening head of his cock, they felt nothing like her tongue, but the memory was powerful enough, a soft moan of recollection slipped from his lips, his eyes fluttering shut as his grip tightened once more. His shaft was wet from his own mounting need, and it continued to spill from the tip, his hand now moistened by the clear essence which oozed from the head. In the silent room, the sound of his own flesh sliding through his fingers was disgustingly erotic and Lucius raised to meet his own touch.  His handing dipping from root to tip and back again, drawing his fingers tightly over the ridge before sliding tightly back down to the base. His palm glided easy back up again, his cock now soaked in his own arousal as it leaked constantly with expectation. An expectation only he could fulfil and one that he found himself desperately needing to, the pleasure building as his mind continued to drift, it threatened to overtake him very quickly.    That very tiny part of Lucius’ brain which had been telling him he shouldn’t be doing this was now telling him the same thing, but for a very different reason, aching to prolong the pleasure he was inflicting on himself, but he’d pushed himself to the edge. The need to come was overwhelming, the aching desire already so intense, Lucius knew if he tried to stop now and rebuild the anticipation it would diminish the feeling.  His fingers tightened and Lucius hand flew up and down the length of his shaft, milking it with a delicious brutality that only a man could, his creamy white seed exploded from his silky swollen flesh amidst a litany of garbled, wordless groans.  Pure white pleasure spewed from his body, his chest rose and fell hard as he continued to come. Short sharp bursts of breath, matched him stroke for stroke, as he Lucius pushed himself into his own hand, his grip vice like, and then loosening as final spurt and jagged breath left his strained body.

Lucius slumped back against Hermione, his weight almost catching her off balance, but she managed to remain upright. His breathing was heavy and fast, but as the moments passed it gradually returned to normal, her arms once more came to meet across his chest, his heart still beating rapidly after the exertion. Her own body still tingled from the experience, although she clearly wasn’t as shattered as Lucius.  Their eyes met once more through the long glass mirror.

Her own voice came in breathy, husky tones: “Disgusting, sad, pathetic and old, not the description I would have used.” 

She noticed, that now all too familiar blonde brow arch in questioning form.

“Scandalous.” She teased him, knowing his mood was as different, as the reflection that had looked back at him this afternoon.

“Deliciously so.” She rubbed her still sensitive body against him to emphasise the point.

“Erotic, very pleasing……and not just for you.” She gave him a knowing and incredibly feline grin.

Lucius’ mind and body were still reeling at what he had just done, his body throbbed and basked in the afterglow, his mind in a state of dazed pleasure.  The flush that drifted through his sated body, was however, not just from the powerful climax he had just enjoyed.  There had been a point just before his entire body exploded and filled with pleasure, that he thought he had fallen back to sleep, and was experiencing something else he hadn’t since he had been a pubescent teenager.

Heat suffused his body all the more at her openness, at her graphic assessment and her own obvious satisfaction. Her beautiful face was flushed too, but there wasn’t the merest hint of embarrassment to be seen in its rosy hues, he just saw that same feisty twinkle in those brown eyes, he was getting to know so well.  He didn’t want to come down from his physical or mental high with words that would dredge up old feelings, instead he responded, quite possibly how Hermione would to him………

“An interesting, dare I say ingenious way to demonstrate your point, Hermione. I would say 10 points to Gryffindor, but once again, I see some very Slytherin like tendencies coming to the fore.”

Hermione’s hands tightened across Lucius’ chest, her body softly abrading against his, she couldn’t resist the urge to nip the neck which was bared to her, as he rested against her. Nor could she resist her retort.

“It would appear that those weren’t the only things _coming_ to the fore Lucius _.”_


	77. The Difference Between Dreams And Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now this chapter comes with a little warning, not necessarily for adult content, but yeah that as well, but the inferences which may or may not offend your "pureblood" HP senses. Yes I know this is fanfic, but from experiences I know how people react, so I am just putting it out there. If you don't like it don't read. I know a lot of you are my regular followers, readers and messagers so I am hoping that you will enjoy it for what it is, my fanfic and part of this story...that said I hope you enjoy it xx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the housekeeping, my usual thanks for wonderful comments and kudos. And as ever apologies for everything :-)

 

The morning might not have started as Lucius had hoped, and events might have taken a rather unusual turn, but Hermione was still in his bed, he was still in his bed, just about, and thus far there had been no untimely interruptions of any sort.  The odd thing was, Lucius had no idea what happened next, what to do.

Somehow, Salazar alone knew how or why, he and Hermione had gravitated toward this very intense, very honest, very sexual relationship.  She had agreed to help him, actually they had agreed to help each other, all be it in very different ways. She had even agreed, wanted, to sleep with him, but that was it. Did they even have a relationship? Of course they did, the word was not in question only the definition.  

The even odder thing was, the intensity, the honesty and even the sex, all came frighteningly easily with Hermione, it was the little things, the _normal_ things which Lucius found himself struggling with, trying to rationalise in his head. Compared to where his thoughts had been in recent months, the darkness that had surrounded him, it was a pleasant change to think about such mundane things, but it didn’t lessen the turmoil in his brain, it was proving to be yet another mass of confused feelings for him to deal with. Hermione had talked of boundaries and crossing lines with him, he found himself in a very similar predicament, his however had nothing to do with work or professionalism, in fact his were on a far more personal level, and one which he did not know how Hermione would react, but then in truth, he didn’t know how to react.  

Just like his rather wily, distinctly Slytherin ploy to keep Hermione at the manor, something else equally serpentine occurred to Lucius Malfoy. Much of what had happened between them so far, no **_most_** of what had happened between them so far, had been instigated or lead by Hermione. Lucius saw no reason for that to change, in fact he liked it. Allowing that to continue, would mean, whatever happened going forward would be on her terms. Regarding her work for the Ministry and his assisting her, that she would be in control, was of course a given.  As to his request for help, she was the professional, that she would determine the best way for it to work, would be sensible. Right at this moment, Lucius Malfoy was certain, there was very little, if anything that Hermione Granger could not get him to do, or that he would not want to.

Allowing someone else to have any sort of control over his life had proved exceedingly dangerous in the past, they got into his head and controlled his mind, they had manipulated him and determined his actions, they had taken over his home …… in her own way Hermione Granger was every bit as powerful and formidable as the Dark Lord himself.

 

“I don’t think I want to leave this bed.”

Hermione hadn’t moved. She had remained curled about the sated bulk of the dark wizard, her legs wrapped about him, caught up amidst a mass of soft skin and fine, tangled cotton. Despite the slightly uncomfortable position she found herself in, the warmth emanating from his body and his now steady rhythmic breathing had almost sent her back to sleep.  Her words came from that place teetering on the periphery of consciousness, cocooned by that warmth and peaceful afterglow. She suddenly realised she had voiced the words drifting around in her head, aloud.

Lucius couldn’t recall ever having spent time in bed just for the fun of it, not even in the early days of his marriage, before Draco arrived.

“Then don’t.” He stated simply, this time turning his head to look at Hermione, instead of catching her eye in the mirror.

“Hmm, now that would be a first for me. I’ve never stayed in bed unless I’ve been sick.” She watched a leisurely smile spread across Lucius’ face.

“A first for both of us then, because neither have I.”

The little devil had woken up from his cocoon too.

“So, would you like to spend the day in bed with me?” Voicing her own desire to stay in bed, had been a shock even to Hermione’s ears, she really wasn’t sure who had asked this question.

“I think I must still be asleep and dreaming, for a moment I thought Hermione Granger had asked me to spend the day in bed.”

There was a teasing, amused look on her face as she spoke: “Not so very long ago, that too would have been a nightmare.” Hermione raised her hand and tenderly brushed the back of her fingers to his cheek, reassuring Lucius that there was no malice in her words, it was simply an observation, a very accurate one at that.

She didn’t want to provoke or upset him in any way, but he had asked for her help; to give him that in any way, he couldn’t be afraid to confront anything that had happened in the past. She was as much a part of his past as Lord Voldemort, as the Dementors, as Azkaban Prison. She was the straightforward and logical place to start, using herself was relatively safe ground, and she had to start somewhere.

Hermione found her wrists grasped tightly between Lucius fingers, her heart beat rapidly in her chest. The man still had the power to send fear coursing through her at lightning speed, she would like to think she could stand her ground as it were, but instead she found herself pinned against the cool, rumpled bedding. Her heart rate accelerating yet further, but this time the fear was exchanged for excitement. Lucius face looming above hers, his blonde hair tumbling against her.

“Hmm you are quite right, although it’s somewhat of a double-edged sword.”

Adrenaline pulsed around Hermione’s prone frame, anxiety having given way to delight at the sheer potency Lucius exuded, her mind equally as excited by words.

“How so?” She asked firmly, trying to keep the breathy exhilaration from her voice.

“Spending the day in bed with a _Mudblood_ , a _total_ nightmare for a Death Eater, tantamount to torture.”

Lucius’ words were goading, but just like hers there was no nastiness in them, his voice was severe, but laced with a velvety softness, as he pressed his body to hers.

“But even back then, a Death Eater, would have to have been made of stone, not to be aroused such a beautiful and incredibly sexy woman.”

A small gasp escaped from Hermione, again fuelled in equal measure by his potent masculinity and his lustful, but shocking admission. Her brain was fighting her own body, to comprehend his words, words which perhaps should have repulsed her, but for some reason they didn’t. Instead her excitement intensified.

“You say that in hindsight Lucius, but _back then_ , it was all very different, _you,_ were very different.”

Her wrists were manacled above her head by his strong grip, her body restrained by his.

“That is very true. And I would never have been brave enough to admit such a thing then, although, the fear, would have been anyone finding out about such _nightmares.”_

Hermione could feel every one of Lucius’ words through his body, each nuance, she’d felt it surge against her as he had spoken of being made of stone. She felt a distinct quelling in that need as he clearly thought of someone, more than likely Lord Voldemort, a skilled legilimens, finding out, one of his followers, was harbouring such thoughts, even in a nightmare, about a filthy Mudblood. It brought a very new meaning to reading body language.

“I cannot begin to imagine.” Voldemort ruled with fear on every level there was, even a person’s thoughts were not safe from him, no matter how hard you tried to shield them, she knew that all too well from Harry. For someone like Lucius as time had gone on, he must have been in constant fear.

They continued to move against each other as the bizarre, probingly intimate conversation progressed, both of them treading a very fine line of what Lucius might deem appropriate.

“I liked that you _thought_ about me before we had dinner.” Hermione’s lithe body arched against the restraining weight of his.

“But I am not sure how I would have felt then, about a married, Death Eater, having those same thoughts.”

Like Lucius, the thoughts about certain things _back then_ , now, were clearly very erotic, but at the time, for both of them, it would have been a very different story. But something else stirred in the back of Hermione’s brain.

“You were just a child then.” His drawled incredulously.

Hermione’s voice was equally as slow and measured: “The first time we met yes, I was…...but our paths crossed a few years later at the Quidditch World Cup and then again the following year, I was 16.”

She was careful not to directly mention their latter encounter at the Department of Mysteries, it was after all what had got him sent to Azkaban.

Lucius was wholly entranced, both physically, his body drawn to hers like a silken magnet, and mentally, his own mind only too willing to engage with hers.  

“But then I was the enemy.”

His words were punctuated by tightening grips and gentle seductive thrusts.

“I can still see that look of blatant disgust on your face at the World Cup. The next time we _met,_ at the Ministry. _”_

As he alluded to their encounter at the Department of Mysteries, Hermione’s mouth opened once more, this time the small gasp was all but silent. Lucius took full advantage, his lips moving across hers, his sharp teeth grazing their softness.

“You were terrified.” His statement was flat, tinged with sadness, his aristocratic tone hushed and indulgent.

Hermione saw remorse in the Dark Wizard’s face, but his body was unyielding in its gentle torture, his flesh igniting her own.

“I was utterly, I remember my hand shaking, and I had dreams about it, about you, for weeks afterwards.”

Those lips and teeth had skimmed along her jawline and were now tormenting an ear, his breath warm and caressing as he spoke.

“Nightmares I am sure.” He said against her mouth as his lips connected with hers once more.

More heat suffused Hermione’s body, and not just from the attention Lucius was paying her now.

“No!” The word came out whispered, but emphatic.

“Weirdly, despite everything that happened that day, they weren’t nightmares. Merlin alone knew they should have been nightmares, terrifying ones at that, but they were dreams, actually just one, the same one over and over.”

Lucius moved back, taking in the young woman pinned beneath him, his pale greys eyes searching her blushing face intently. The flush didn’t come from his touch alone, he could sense that, just what sort of dreams had a 16-year-old Hermione Granger had about the man he then was. The cold, soulless Death Eater who’d had no compunction about threatening or hurting her friends.

“Tell me.” He commanded.

Hermione had never told anyone about the visions that had haunted her sleep after that awful day at the Ministry. She couldn’t. Even years later as she studied and trained for the work she now did, she had no idea how to interpret them, other than to put them down to teenage hormones, possibly using them to block out the dreadful things that had happened.  Hermione strained her arms against Lucius’ grip, finding them instantly freed, his powerful, hard body, still holding her captive, but he took his own weight now.

“When I closed my eyes, I saw nothing of that day except you. It was just a moment, frozen in time and replayed constantly in my mind every time I slept.” It was as if they were on a dance floor, swaying gradually in time to the music.

The music was their respective voices. This time, it was her quiet recollections, peppered with tiny, subtle movements against Lucius, to which his own body responded with equal subtly.

“You were advancing menacingly towards me, shrouded in the blackness of the room, almost in slow motion, there was nobody else there, just me. This dark, imposing, masked figure, edging closer and closer. Your footfall is heavy, your cane clicking on the stone floor, the noises reverberating around in the eerie silence of the huge room. You draw your wand, it sounds like a sword slicing through the air, and with one deft movement, the mask concealing your face is gone.”

Hermione wafted her hand across Lucius, captivated face, to demonstrate the action, he didn’t blink or flinch.

“I should be even more frightened, I should back away, but I can’t. I don’t want to, my body is shaking, but it’s not from fear, and that horrifies me even more. I try to push the thought away, but it intensifies. Your eyes are piercing in their passion, fixed on me as you move yet closer, until you are so close I can feel your breath on my face as you speak.”

Lucius might have moved back, but he was still close enough for Hermione to feel that same warm breath against her face now. But now she could enjoy those illicit feelings she had repelled and quashed as a teenager. The feelings she had tried to obliterate completely from her mind, had always detached herself from, woken herself up from, as Lucius had spoken to her in her sleep, in that hypnotic voice of his.

“What do I say?” He asked, his hand drawing an erotic and enquiring path across her shoulder and down her arm.

Hermione’s body quivered in anticipation, the same way as it always did, even when she was younger, her reactions no longer repressed or unwanted. No longer so very wrong.

“The same as you did that day, but in my dream, you spoke them only to me as you traced my arm with your wand”

It was a finger which now traced that burning path over her arm, but it was none the less evocative.

“You know…...” Her voice trembled just as her body did.

“You know you really should learn to tell the difference between dreams and reality.”

Lucius remembered exactly what he had said that fateful day, the taunting words he had then spoken to the Potter boy. 

He was now fully immersed in Hermione’s dream and those words had _very different_ connotations, shock and arousal raced through his blood all at once. He should disengage himself from such thoughts of a 16-year-old girl, but he couldn’t, she was enticing him in with her own sinful recollections. Her hot, wet body writhing beneath him as she spoke, connecting sharply with both his mind and a body which was unbelievably so, achingly aroused once more. He couldn’t supress the almost agonised moan which slipped from his lips.

Letting her eyes close, she allowed her now adult brain, and very grown up body enjoy what the young Hermione Granger feared from the married, much older, terrifying Death Eater. This time she didn’t have to tell the difference between dreams and reality. The hard body which once again covered her own, and slipped forcefully into her, was very much a glorious reality, one she no longer needed, or had to quash or repel, one she no longer needed to shut out for being so wicked or so vile. 

Her mind and her body sang out in unison, as she was once more reminded, just what he could do to her, the sound of that pleasure coming in panted, pleasured moans. His name, a name she would never had expected to hear, falling from her lips in this way. His body responded to hers with a ferocity, she would always have expected of such a man, but with a passion and gentility, she would never have imagined, not from him, and certainly not for her. She clung to him, wanting to savour its beauty and revel in its power; every piece of her tightened about it, hoping that it would come to her over and over again.

 

This time there was no teetering on the precipice of sleep, a heady cocktail of comfort, warmth and exertion, saw them both drift back into sleep. It was nearly noon by the time they woke again.

“Do you still want to stay in bed.” Lucius asked giving Hermione one of those boyish, shy smiles.

Hermione stretched languorously. “I am not sure I have the energy.” Even her young body was a little tender.

Lucius seemed to move with equal caution. “I didn’t think staying in bed could be quite so tiring.”

“Or that you could work up quite such appetite.” Hermione’s stomach grumbled in agreement.  Hunger wasn’t the only reality which occurred to the young witch.

“I also think perhaps we should talk a little about Monday, perhaps plan a little strategy.”

Lucius’ smile vanished instantly, a nasty sneer lifting the lips which had been so sensual against her own.

“Agreed, but if we are going to talk about that vile woman, I refuse to do it naked in my bed.”

Hermione couldn’t constrain her laughter, nor could she fault his reasoning. Being in such a _familiar_ situation with Lucius Malfoy was enough to get her head around, discussing a meeting at the Ministry of Magic, with Rita Skeeter, naked in his bed at Malfoy Manor, was just unimaginable………...


	78. In Marble Halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Lucius arrive at the Ministry of Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK my faithful followers, this time there are apologies...I have a poorly old dog at the moment and my attention is a little distracted. I wanted to post this chapter for the weekend, so if there are any errors of whatever sort I really am sorry. I hope that you enjoy it anyway...

 

There were more than a few raised eyebrows when Hermione entered the Ministry of Magic on Monday morning, with the striking, and instantly recognisable figure of Lucius Malfoy close at her heel. Even amidst the rush hour swell of witches bustling around to get to their offices, wizards flooing in and rushing to their respective departments, he stood out, and not just because of who he was. Whatever had gone before, whatever you still thought about the man, there was simply something about his mere presence, the air of supreme arrogance he wore so assuredly, perhaps even more so today as he walked the black, marbled halls with Hermione Granger. He was effortless in his elegance, as he moved with his usual catlike grace. His finely tailored robes accentuating both his height and his bearing. Lucius wasn't exactly a stranger to the Ministry these days, and of course had been seen with the Minister several times in recent weeks, but to see him with Hermione Granger, was clearly a lot more interesting, startling even, to some onlookers.

Hermione walked silently just a step ahead of him, exuding her own air of confidence and authority. Unlike Lucius, she had opted not to wear her dress robes, being in the office of the Minister of Magic would give her all the inference of power she needed, when it came to Rita Skeeter. The suit she had chosen to wear, was just as dark and finely tailored as Lucius' robes, worn with a cream silk shirt, it accentuated her curves, giving her the femininity she wanted, whilst maintaining a very professional quality. The trademark, long flaxen hair of Lucius Malfoy cascaded about his broad shoulders, as stark a contrast as ever against the darkness of his clothing. Hermione had tethered her own, equally distinctive, somewhat wild mane, in a neat French pleat. All things considered, as they made their way across the busy atrium, they made rather a striking couple.

Ronald Weasley was amongst those looking on as she and Lucius made their way to the lifts, he was not what you would call interested, or even startled, but Hermione knew that look on her former boyfriend's face all too well. Today was going to be difficult enough as it was, she certainly didn't need any interference from Ronald Weasley to make it any more so.

In the quickly moving throng of workers, and amongst the various gold statues and array of fountains, Hermione tried to duck from his sight, hoping to elude any unpleasantness which she knew would be forthcoming. Actually, she was just trying to avoid Ronald, a ploy that failed spectacularly.

"What are you doing with him?" The youngest Weasley son hissed at Hermione.

There was no pretence of politeness, and if he had attempted to whisper his question to keep from Lucius hearing, he had failed miserably, although Hermione wasn't entirely sure that had been his intention. She felt Lucius stiffen at her shoulder, and moved quickly between the two men, verbal animosity she could deal with this morning, just about. She really could do without a repeat performance of the last time these two had met at the Ministry, whoever had been to blame. She could hear Ronald now, telling Molly how, "Mione had stood up for Malfoy." She shook the voice from her head, bringing herself back to the moment in hand.

"And good morning to you to Ronald Weasley." She saw his face flush, his eyes darting once more to the man at her shoulder.

"Oh, yeah sorry, morning." His response was sheepish and grudging.

Aside from the preparation she had meticulously done with Lucius on Saturday afternoon, Hermione had spent a good part of the previous day mentally preparing for her visit to the Ministry and the meeting with the Daily Prophet reporter, she hadn't however factored in bumping into her ex-boyfriend, which in hindsight was a little silly. She always seemed to meet someone she least expected to or wanted to for that matter, on her infrequent visits.

"How are you?" She asked civilly, watching him carefully.

"I saw Ginny on Friday, she was going off somewhere with Harry for the weekend."

Hermione tried to keep the conversation as light and easy as she could, evading his accusatory question. Hoping above hope that Ronald Weasley would be distracted long enough for her and Lucius to ascend the lift.

"Fine thanks." His blue eyes were still fixed suspiciously and hatefully on Lucius as he spoke.

"Yeah they stopped by the Burrow last night."

He paused only briefly before returning to his original question.

"What are you doing with…"

Hermione cut in quickly, fearing that even whilst simply addressing Lucius, Ronald Weasley's words would be far from polite, and would simply antagonise the older man. Being caught between the two of them and in such proximity, she could feel the tension crackling in the air.

"Nothing that need concern you Ronald, Kingsley asked me if I would speak to Mr Malfoy."

Her tone was a little more clipped than usual, dismissive even. Hermione didn't like lying to anyone, and especially not her friends. This wasn't a lie exactly, she just didn't elaborate any further, and why should she? She did not need to justify what she was doing here, or for that matter, what she was doing with Lucius Malfoy, it really was none of Ronald Weasley's concern. The mention of the absent Minister of Magic, and Hermione's polite way of telling him to mind his own business, seemed to warn the redhead off enough and he shifted uncomfortably, but the look on his face was as fiery as his hair.

"Hermione!" An equally familiar voice came booming through the crowded atrium, Arthur Weasley was not as restrained as his son, nor as impolite to her companion, embracing Hermione in a bear like hug before addressing the dark wizard, all be it more brusquely and with less affection. "Lucius."

"Arthur" The tall blonde, inclined his head in acknowledgement, speaking for the first time since entering the building, drawing his keen grey eyes, from one Weasley to the other.

Arthur Weasley's arrival, had thankfully defused the situation, which was brewing as potently as polyjuice potion, all be it a lot quicker, between his son and Lucius Malfoy. It had taken the young witch back to a very different time and place, the air then too, filled with hostility and loathing for the former Death Eater, feelings she had to admit she herself had exuded. She clearly remembered Lucius berating the older Weasley, the then Head of Misuse of Muggle Artefacts, for his associating with Muggles, the Muggles in question being her own parents. Whilst her feelings towards Lucius Malfoy had changed, maybe even Weasley seniors had too, but it was clear his youngest sons hadn't in the least, hatred and distrust were written all over his pale angry face.

Hermione noticed Arthur, put a firm, almost restraining hand on Ronald's shoulder, obviously, he had been aware of their recent contretemps and like Hermione was keen for there not to be a reoccurrence. He too seeming to stick to a neutral and relatively safe topic.

"You must come by for lunch Hermione, we haven't seen you since New Year."

Hermione silently thanked Arthur Weasley, she supposed with a wife, and having been the father of seven children, playing peace maker or devil's advocate came quite easily to him.

"I know, I'm sorry Mister Weasley, I would love to. I've just been a little caught up with work, trying to make a good impression on the Minister, I don't want to let him down."

Arthur Weasley's chuckle, had a very soothing effect on Hermione, it was a genuine, reassuring and happy sound, and she smiled affectionately in response.

"Some things never change, but you don't have to try too hard with Kingsley, and I doubt you could ever let him down."

"That's very sweet of you to say so, I promise I will come by for lunch soon, please give Mrs Weasley my love."

"Excellent, excellent, of course I will."

His hand was still firmly clasped on his son's shoulder and he all but shoved him in the opposite direction.

"Come on Ron or we'll be late."

Hermione noticed a clearly rather confused look on Ronald Weasley's face, mixed with the look of contempt he still regarded Lucius Malfoy with, it gave his face a rather odd expression.

"Lucius." This time it was Arthur Weasley who nodded politely.

"Arthur." Lucius responded with the same cordiality, as the Weasley patriarch guided his son off.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as she watched them go, she felt a touch mean at her thoughts, but she was just glad the situation hadn't got out of control. She felt the briefest of touches from Lucius as his hand brushed her lower back.

"Are you alright Hermione?"

Unlike Ronald Weasley, Lucius Malfoy had well and truly mastered the art of a whisper for her ears only, all too well.

His warm breath against her cheek, the merest brush of his hand and the ever-intoxicating scent of his spicy cologne, all in such a public place sent and odd little frisson of excitement rushing through the young witch. She found a flush creeping across her cheeks, and her heart beat a little faster than normal, as she turned to meet his concern with a grateful smile.

"I am Lucius, thank you for asking. I did not want Ronald Weasley causing another scene, especially as Kingsley is not here, and especially not today."

The lift doors opened before them, and she and Lucius got in with the livered attendant, and several other ministry employees.

"You heard about that?" Lucius asked wryly, standing alongside Hermione.

She couldn't help the smile which lifted her lips.

"I might not be here very much, but when it comes to Harry Potter or Ronald Weasley, there isn't much which escapes my attention."

Lucius maintained a rather condescending air, Hermione noticed he adopted it when other people were around. In the confined space of the lift, his hand, unseen by others, brushed against hers. She wasn't sure if it was intentional or the sudden rather erratic movement of the lift. In the smaller, much warmer space his heady scent overwhelmed her, his voice was once more that hushed, incredibly sensual sound at her ear.

"I think when it comes to most things Hermione, there is very little which escapes your attention."

Hermione gave him a sidelong look, it had a rather disdainful air of its own, but her brown eyes twinkled at him, she had to bite the tip of tongue to stop herself, childishly sticking it out at him, but intentional or not, she found it impossible not to return the briefest touch of his fingers with her own. Her reward, that little look of surprise lighting his pale grey eyes and that infinitesimally raised blonde brow.

"Office of The Minister of Magic." A female voice announced in the lift, the attendant, pulled back the grill, and Hermione and Lucius stepped out, Hermione striding purposefully towards the Minister's office, her frighteningly high heels clattering against the hard marble floor.

Kingsley Shacklebolt's secretary, Drusilla Barnes rose to greet them, she welcomed Hermione with a beaming smile, but seemed a little warier as she bid her companion a much quieter more restrained, good morning.

"Please go right in, the Minister said to make yourself at home and if there is anything you need please let me know."

Hermione thanked the bespectacled, middle aged woman, who again smiled rather nervously at Lucius as they entered the Minister's office.

Lucius watched as Hermione surveyed the room, curious as to what was going on in that razor-sharp mind of hers. She moved towards Kingsley Shacklebolt's desk and then back to the centre of the room. Lucius removed his travelling cloak, and with a dismissive wave of his hand, sent it to the coat stand in the corner of the room. He was totally intrigued as Hermione continued to pace, that pacing interrupted by a sudden and sharp knock on the door. Hermione raised her hand and the door opened, Drusilla Barnes was standing on the other side clutching an envelope.

"Excuse me Miss Granger, the Minister asked me to give you this on your arrival."

Hermione thanked her once more, and sliced through the heavy cream parchment with an ornate letter opener which she found on Kingsley Shacklebolt's desk.

_My Dear Hermione,_

_Good Luck today, although I am sure you won't need it._

_I have put a few precautionary wards in place in my office, just to ensure Ms Skeeter behaves herself, which we both know she isn't prone to do. Feel free to add anything else, I am sure between you and Lucius you could come up with something particularly fiendish to ensure fair play._

_KS_

_PS…I would sit on the sofa, have Lucius seated beside you and make Rita Skeeter sit in that rather uncomfortable leather armchair._

Hermione, laughed out loud, how on earth had Kingsley Shacklebolt known…she passed the note to Lucius who was viewing her with even more curiosity than before. He was about to speak when Hermione put her finger to her lips, silencing him, she withdrew her wand.

"Specialis revelio".

Immediately she could see those precautions that the Minister had put in place, it also revealed that she and Lucius were completely alone in the office. Hermione was leaving nothing to chance when it came to the despicable reporter. She had eavesdropped on conversations before, this might be the Ministry of Magic, but Rita Skeeter knew no bounds when it came to a story. Hermione waved her wand once more, this time concealing the wards and charms, Kingsley had cast about his office.

"A man after my own heart." Lucius said making himself comfortable on the sofa, just as Kingsley had suggested.

"Well you just cannot be too careful with that woman. We both know what she is capable of. I think Kingsley has more than covered every eventuality, but….." Her eyes fell on Lucius' cane.

"But?" He asked cautiously.

"But, I would be much happier with one more, just to be safe. The ward you have on the Manor, the one which prevented Narcissa from using magic, will it work here?"

Lucius uncrossed his long legs and withdraw his wand from its dark ebony cane, the silver head glinting in his hand.

"Unless I am prevented from using magic here in this room, I can see no reason why not."

From the contents of the Minister's letter or her revelio Hermione doubted that.

"I don't think that is the case Lucius."

She watched as he rose to his feet and with a graceful swish of his hand, a wave of his elm wand, and a few quietly spoken words he cast the same ward on Kingsley Shacklebolt's office, that protected his own home. Hermione noticed the emerald green eyes of the serpent glinting intently as he replaced the wand back into the cane. It rattled momentarily before ceasing, the eyes of the fearsome looking snake, once more fading to their normal brightness.

At 10.52, the cane at Lucius side began to rattle violently, the sparkling green jewels began to glitter fiercely once more. Hermione glanced from the glittering emerald chips of the serpent's eyes, to the glittering silver chips of Lucius' eyes.

"It appears that the ward works perfectly well here, and that Ms Skeeter is…..."

Lucius glanced at the clock on the wall in Kingsley Shacklebolt's office, before slowly removing his own hunter pocket watch and comparing the times.

"8 minutes early."

Lucius' voice was very calm, his demeanour unruffled, whether it was all a front, Hermione couldn't tell. She had become very good at reading the dark wizard, but he had given little away this morning, or over the weekend for that matter, and his face remained impassive, even now. She tried to keep her own emotions in check, revealing nothing of her own nerves that would unsettle Lucius, showing none of the anger which bubbled in her blood that would rub off onto him. The cool, calm and very professional exterior she portrayed bore little resemblance to the turmoil that raged under the sharp tailoring and elegant silk. She gave Lucius a bright smile, with it came one of those reassuring touches, this one saw her fingers gently caressing his arm.

"She can wait until 11."


	79. An Exclusive Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title speaks for itself...........

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not getting this to you for the weekend, but I am still nursing the sick (four legged). Brain is not firing on all cylinders. But thank you for all those lovely reviews, please don't stop, I need all the encouragement I can get at the moment. 
> 
> I know a lot of you have been eagerly anticipating this chapter, so I hope it comes up to expectations. It might not be what you were/are expecting BUT in all honesty this is the route I thought a grown up Hermione would take, so I really hope that you like it and you will let me know what you think, good or bad I can take it (I think)....so I HOPE that you enjoy it :-)

 

At precisely 11am by Lucius’ antique watch, Hermione opened the heavy wooden door which allowed access to the Minister of Magic’s office.  Two sets of bespectacled eyes fell upon her, those of the Minster’s secretary, Drusilla Barnes and the watchful green ones of Rita Skeeter.  The young witch felt her hackles rise instantly, but she was determined to maintain an air of decorum. She would not allow this woman to rile her or get under her skin in any way. She was no longer a gauche inexperienced, schoolgirl, she was a woman, a woman who worked for the Ministry of Magic and she was representing that office now. She had all but drummed a similar set of priorities into Lucius over the weekend, reiterating this over and over to the surprisingly patient Dark Wizard. She knew he respected her and the office she held, but Rita Skeeter was more than capable of pushing his buttons and would no doubt do her very best to do so, especially if she felt she was being out manoeuvred or had been manipulated in any way. This was going to take every ounce of cunning and skill that she and Lucius could muster between them. Both of them had good reason to want to do heinous things to the less than pleasant reporter, but both of them had to rise above their personal feelings and manipulate and out manoeuvre Rita Skeeter, without her realising it and of course to their own advantage.  

Hermione pinned a pleasant but not overly bright smile to her face, and politely greeted the Daily Prophet reporter.

“Good morning Miss Skeeter, please, come in.”

The diminutive blonde, grasped her oversized crocodile handbag and rose to her feet. Her mass of tight blonde curls bobbing violently with the motion, her own smile was visibly overly bright and decidedly false as she moved across the outer office towards Hermione.

The younger woman had gone over and over every aspect of this meeting in her head, how she would address the other woman, her own demeanour, no detail had been left out, no matter how minute it seemed.   She took a step back and allowed the blonde woman to precede her into the adjoining room. Rita Skeeter flounced past her Hermione amidst a waft of nauseatingly sweet perfume, the creak of leather and the clattering of thin heels. Hermione wrinkled her nose, at the repellent smell and the equally ghastly woman, fighting back the urge to cough at the overpowering scent, Hermione closed the door.

“I must say Miss Per…...Granger”

Her voice trilled enthusiastically, the edge to her voice and purposeful slight, reaching her narrowed eyes.

“I was absolutely delighted and amazed to hear that you had finally decided to give me an interview……”

Hermione ignored the slip in her address, more than satisfied with Rita Skeeter’s reaction at seeing Lucius Malfoy comfortably seated in the Minister’s office.

“I’m sure you were.” She could play Rita Skeeter’s game, only much better.

“Oh, of course, you know Mister Malfoy.” Hermione kept her features totally impassive at the look of complete shock on Rita Skeeter’s pale, pinched face.

“Won’t you sit down.” Hermione indicated a chair.

“Can I offer you some tea, coffee or water perhaps?”

She went on quickly, taking full advantage of the upper hand she had clearly gained, but not overlooking any of the usual pleasantries.

Lucius rose out of politeness, his impeccable manners shining through whatever the situation, although she knew it was for her benefit rather than Rita Skeeter’s. He remained silent, simply nodding his head in acknowledgement of her presence, before resuming his position, comfortably on the sofa. Clearly her words, her seemingly never ending instructions were foremost in his mind.

The petite blonde sat in the _uncomfortable leather armchair_ , adjusting the skirt of her skin tight white leather suit, it squeaked unflatteringly against the matching material of the chair. She brushed an imaginary spec of something from the black fur trim of the matching jacket.  Declining Hermione’s offer of refreshments as she pushed her red bejewelled wing tipped glasses back up her visibly out of joint nose.

“No, thank you.” Her voice lost its trilling enthusiasm and became a little clipped.

“I wasn’t aware that Mister Malfoy would be joining us.”

Her tone remained light and saccharine sweet if somewhat strained, the false smile still firmly planted on her bee stung red lips. The shade of lipstick identical to her glasses and the polish which tipped her ridiculously long talon like fingernails. Nonetheless, Hermione could see the suspicion in the other woman’s face, as well as the wariness, which bordered on fear in her narrowed eyes. She still had the upper hand, in more ways than one. She needed no spells, no threats, no warnings. The reporter was already aware she had been ambushed, she was on the back foot, and coming face to face with both Hermione Granger and Lucius Malfoy was visibly not a situation she was entirely happy with, or prepared to push in any way.

The younger witch couldn’t have scripted the exchange any better, knowing full well that the reporter would be caught off guard by the dark wizard’s presence, and knowing exactly what her own response was going to be.  Just as Kingsley Shacklebolt had suggested, Hermione took her place next to Lucius on the sofa, elegantly crossing her ankles as she too sat back comfortably and assuredly.

“Oh, I am sorry, a simple oversight on the Minister’s part I am sure.” Her own smile was professional, her gaze unwavering.

 “In view of the subject matter and his involvement, we both, that is the Minister and I, thought it would be helpful for him to join us. There might be something you wanted to ask, and I wouldn’t dream of speaking for him, it’s so easy to misrepresent someone else’s words, second hand.”

It was a blatant dig and it hit its mark dead centre. The false smile waivered slightly, gravitating more towards a sneer, not quite on a par with one of Lucius’, but certainly a keen rival. Hermione silently awarded herself 10 house points, no longer sure whether they were for Gryffindor or Slytherin. She continued her offensive, determined to maintain the upper hand and keep things just as she wanted them.

“So where would you like to start, are you sure I cannot get you something, it really is no trouble?”

Hermione noticed those beady green eyes shift from herself to Lucius and back again. They took in every bit of the two-people seated together, making mental notes, no doubt; how close they were sitting, their body language. A little ball of heat welled in Hermione at that thought and she shifted a tad uncomfortably, she didn’t need those beady eyes picking up on anything that _wasn’t there._

“No, I’m fine.” She said dismissively, perceptibly unnerved by Lucius’ presence, and the fact that she had quite possibly been hoodwinked in some way.

“Do you mind if I used my quick quotes quill?” She asked reaching down towards the large handbag, nestling at her side.

Hermione doubted whether her minding would stop her, she was only too familiar with Rita Skeeter’s quick quotes quill, and it’s inaccurate, sensationalising form of note taking, but with Kingsley’s censorship clause in place, not to mention his _precautions,_ she agreed amiably.

The false smile was firmly back in place, the long, acid green quill poised in readiness. The caustic reporter peered over the top of her glasses at the two people sitting in front of her, before pushing them back to the bridge of her nose with a thin, taloned finger.  Now she meant business.

Hermione mentally and physically braced herself for the onslaught, silently assuring herself that she could do this.

“Well it appears, from not only our surroundings Miss Granger, but also doing a job, I believe was created for you, you have the full backing of the Ministry and the Minister of Magic himself.”

The woman was so very predictable, although in certain respects, Hermione had thought Rita Skeeter would go straight for the jugular, homing in on Lucius presence. She would not be lulled into any false sense of security, where this woman was concerned, keeping her guard well and truly in place. She addressed the question that had been posed.

“Kingsley Shacklebolt has been very……”

A strange scratching and spitting sound came from the quill and pad at Rita Skeeter’s shoulder, the nib appearing to stick to the paper and having trouble transcribing her words. The blonde looked more than a little annoyed, realising the page remained totally blank.

Rita Skeeter looked at the empty page, her glasses had once more slipped to the end of her sharp nose and she again viewed both Hermione and Lucius over the top of them, her green eyes narrowed with even more suspicion. She snapped her fingers, a page turned in the notebook and the quick quotes quill once more attempted to write, once more with the same infuriating outcome, nothing. Rita Skeeter, tutted impatiently in frustration.

“Please, allow me.” Lucius spoke for the first time since she had entered the room. His refined voice capturing both of their attention.  He slipped a hand inside his long jacket and produced a small, neat quill, offering it to the irritated reporter with a very disarming smile, well placed, and almost believably sincere smile.

She took it, all be it rather diffidently from his outstretched hand, the quick quotes quill dropping into her open handbag, the notebook onto her lap. She raised an incredibly thin, neatly pencilled brow at Lucius in thanks.

“You were saying Miss Granger…….” She scribbled something quickly before Hermione continued to speak.

Hermione and Lucius exchanged brief sidelong glances.

“Yes, I was saying that the Minster of Magic has been very supportive of my work. As I am sure you are aware, with your own research that is.”

Hermione knew full well, despite any directives from her Editor or the Minister, Rita Skeeter would have her own agenda, it would have little or nothing to do with Hermione’s work.  She would have done no research into what exactly it was Hermione did, all she would know was the tittle tattle she had heard, all she wanted to hear was her own brand of tittle tattle. Rita Skeeter wanted her own exclusive interview with Hermione Granger, with her own brand of reporting, she wanted to write her **own** story. She was going to be very disappointed. This exclusive interview was not going to go the way she had envisaged, not for a single moment.

“It is a completely new field in the wizarding world, so I am very grateful to Kingsley Shacklebolt for giving me this opportunity.”

In her preparation for the meeting, Hermione had reminded herself and Lucius not to volunteer too much additional information, but at the same time, the young witch was determined to steer things the way she wanted, and ensure that Rita Skeeter asked the questions she wanted her to.

“Convincing people of new ideas is never easy at the best of times, but our Minister of Magic is a very forward thinking man, keen to keep the Ministry up to date and ahead of the field.”

“Come, come Miss Granger, I am sure you have no trouble in convincing people when it comes to getting what you want.”

The sharp-tongued reporter cast a salacious look at Lucius, her inference quite clear.

Well that didn’t take long, Hermione thought, pleasantries over and done with, Rita Skeeter not getting her own way, interview reduced to the reporter’s spiteful gutter level in less than five minutes, quite possibly a record, even for her.

In that comprehensive preparation of her own, and promise to herself not to let Rita Skeeter get under her skin or rile her, the young witch had also vowed she would not rise to any bait, or in this case, sink to any such levels. The poisonous woman had called her devious once before, in this case she was quite possibly spot on, but Hermione, had no intention of turning this into a slanging match, or a raking over of past history. She would stick with her tried and tested mantra, politeness and professionalism at all times. If she could maintain it with Narcissa Malfoy, then the loathsome Rita Skeeter would be a piece of cauldron cake.

“Sometimes I have my work cut out, but on the whole, when you present strong facts, and a good case, people are more inclined to listen to what you have to say, and ultimately give you what you want.”

Rita Skeeter gave Hermione her thinnest, falsest smile yet, her bony hand flying across the notebook, clutching her borrowed quill. She might have been given a directive on this interview and was on reasonably good behaviour, but clearly, she was going to make the best, or in her case the worst of it that she could.

“Of course, I can understand getting an old friend like Kingsley Shacklebolt onside with new ideas, and what was it you said.”

Her sharp green eyes, peered through her red spectacles, reading back on her notes.

“Ah yes, forward thinking.”

She could not have forgotten so quickly what Hermione had said, the spiteful diminutive woman was just trying to irritate or perhaps in Rita’s case, bug her, even making her long-time friendship with Kingsley Shacklebolt sound tacky. She turned her vicious tongue on Lucius.

“No offence Mister Malfoy, but you are not exactly what I would call forward thinking. So, what exactly is your involvement with Miss Granger, with her work that is. What are you getting out of this?”

Her tinkling equally false laughter permeated the air.

Lucius gripped the cane at his side, his knuckles whitening around the shiny head. He felt Hermione at his side and remembered where he was and every word that Hermione had said to him over the last couple of days. Rita’s Skeeter’s sharp eyes watched his every move, for a moment he saw her unsettled, that horrible shrill laugh ceasing as she shifted awkwardly in her seat, perhaps she was regretting her question, wondering if she had provoked him a little too much. Hermione’s words continued to resonate in his head, but there was no harm in letting her think that, reminding her of just who he was and what he was capable of. If she was to be believed, he was a lot worse even than that. He toyed irritably with the silver serpent, its green eyes glinting even sharper than the reporter’s. This really was quite possibly the most unpleasant woman he had ever encountered. She made even the simplest of things sound so tasteless, well considering her own lack of taste, that was hardly surprising.

There was no love lost between him and Narcissa, not now, but he couldn’t help but wonder just how much of the story printed about him in the Daily Prophet had actually come from his wife or been made up by this hateful woman and her equally poisonous quill.  In his peripheral vision, Lucius saw Hermione uncross and cross her legs, shifting her position slightly. She had arranged this for his benefit, he would not let her down, nor would he allow the Minister of Magic to think his faith in him was misplaced. Lucius would not be provoked. He too remembering his lengthy conversations with Hermione over the weekend. Not to mention refusing to talk about this nasty woman whilst naked in his bed. He curbed a smile, but continued to toy menacingly with his cane.

“None taken.” He said through gritted teeth, the action turning his mouth into a sneer, which was firmly fixed on the petite blonde.

He too followed suit with Hermione’s clever duel of words.

“I suppose that would really depend on your definition of forward thinking. But in this instance, the Minister of Magic convinced me, and if I can assist Miss Granger in some way, it is the least I can do.”

As he spoke, Rita Skeeter’s hand resumed its movement at great speed across the page.

“And exactly how will you be _assisting_ Miss Granger?”

The tension in Lucius had not gone unnoticed by Hermione, neither had the threatening movements of his hand, those had not been lost on the women seated opposite them either. Hermione was certain his action was purely for effect, but she didn’t want to leave anything to chance. With another insalubrious inference, the reporter was determined to turn this into something else entirely. Bring it down to her very low level. Hermione was not going to allow that to happen, nor was she going to allow her to antagonise Lucius, goad him into something he might regret, just to prove a point. So, it was she who answered the question, it was the one she knew would be coming and had rehearsed her response in her head many times.

“I am not sure if you know exactly what my work involves, how comprehensive your research has been.”

Hermione paused purposefully, the blank, vacant look on older woman’s face told her, obviously, just as she had surmised, she knew next to nothing and as usual there had been no fact finding done. Just as she had done with Narcissa Malfoy, Hermione took the higher ground, only this time there were no morals involved. Just an enjoyable belittling of this, nerve jinglingly awful woman.

“It is a little difficult for outsiders to understand, but as the Head of Wizard Welfare & Rehabilitation, I assist those who have suffered trauma of some kind, or are finding it difficult to readjust to normal wizarding life, say after being incarcerated.”

Rita Skeeter’s hand stilled, her piercing green eyes darting from Hermione to Lucius and back again. Now she was most definitely interested, so much so, Hermione could almost see her antennae rise. The younger woman maintained her clear, professional and patronising elucidation. Her polite smile didn’t waver, continuing as if she believed this was exactly what Rita Skeeter wanted to hear.

“For me to help them more fully and with a better understanding, it is useful to speak to others who have endured similar scenarios and who have recovered and successfully readapted.”

Hermione noticed the quill still hadn’t moved, those piercing green eyes, still flitting between herself and the man seated at her side.

“Sorry am I going too fast for you?” Hermione enquired, her voice barely concealing her sarcasm.

Hermione noticed the Daily Prophet reporter’s red mouth open and close, well this was a first, had she really stumped her for words. Adjusting her position slightly on the sofa, Hermione turned sideways so she could see Lucius fully. He took his cue beautifully, the fact Rita Skeeter was utterly speechless was a bonus.

“Truthfully.” Lucius spoke as if he were confiding something very personal to the reporter, for her ears only, drawing her in. In many ways he was, except of course for the her ears only part…..that would be miraculous to say the least.

“It really isn’t something I like to talk about, my time in Azkaban and those dark days following my release.”

Hermione recognised that genuine tone in Lucius voice, knowing that his words were directed more at her than Rita Skeeter.

“But, Miss Granger and of course the Minister of Magic, helped me realise that by doing so, I can help others. It is not a concept I am usually familiar with, but times and people change, so I am more than willing to help, in any way that I can.”

Hermione gave Lucius the first genuine smile of the interview, turning her attention back to the still flabbergasted reporter.

“You were curious as to why I had finally agreed to give you an interview after all this time?”

Those intensely annoying rigid blonde curls bobbed on Rita Skeeter’s head and about her high fur collar as she managed to nod in response to Hermione’s question.

This was even better than she had hopped: “Mostly because the article is not about me, but about the work I am now doing, which I am very passionate about. I feel it is important that people should be aware of it, after all they might be affected in some way, and not even know it.”

“Are you…..have you…..”

Speechless had been a bonus, incoherent was even better. Hermione waited patiently for Rita Skeeter to ask her question.

“Are you telling me that, you have talked about your time in Azkaban?” Her accusatory question was hurled sceptically at Lucius.

Hermione wasn’t sure if Rita Skeeter was actually incredulous or just angry at not getting that particular scoop herself.

Lucius was faultless in his response, calm, polite and breathtakingly honest. Hermione felt a strange little tremor of pride as he spoke.

“Not in its entirety, but then Miss Granger and I have only been working together for a short time.”

“Talking to people about such traumatic events, and dark times, is not something which can be rushed or be taken lightly. You can make things much worse.” Hermione made another, not so subtle dig at the reporter.

“You must be very careful how you yourself react, how you process the information or people can get hurt. That was something I didn’t fully appreciate myself until I spoke at length with Mister Malfoy.”

Hermione knew from past dealings with Rita Skeeter, nothing got in the way of a story, least of all something as irrelevant as the truth. She truly didn’t expect any sort of emotional reaction to her words, she doubted the woman was even capable, she probably couldn’t even spell remorse.

But in all honesty, that wasn’t the point here. That Lucius Malfoy was assisting Hermione Granger and the Ministry of Magic, and that it had been written about by Rita Skeeter and published in the Daily Prophet, would go a long way to repressing the lies she had previously written about him, make her eat those hateful words, whether she liked it or not.  Hermione knew that Rita Skeeter was well aware of that fact, and that she had been well and truly backed into a corner.

This interview, whatever its content, was however still very much a scoop, and there was no way on earth Rita Skeeter would want to miss out on that, no matter what she had to write. Hermione imaged the reporter’s evil tongue was being bitten to a shred inside that perfectly painted red mouth.  

“I didn’t think it was fair that I should take all of the credit for what I am doing at the Ministry, or the assistance I am hopefully providing. Because, well quite simply, without the help and support of others, I simply could not do my job.”

“How very noble of you both.”

Much as she might have tried for her words to sound genuine, which they both doubted, they didn’t. Patronising, condescending, bitter, would have been more accurate. But neither Hermione nor Lucius bit, allowing them to go over their respective heads and offering more phoney smiles. Hermione’s coaching and foresight had been invaluable.

It was Lucius who spoke, his words equally as insincere but they pandered to Rita Skeeter’s ego, so that insincerity went right over her head with equal rapidity.

This time the cunning dark wizard, adopted a very different, flattering tone as he spoke.

“With your vast following of dedicated readers, your incomparable way with words, and of course the circulation the Daily Prophet has, this is as Miss Granger suggests, an excellent way to bring these kind of issues, problems even, to people’s attention.”

Lucius found himself on the receiving end of some batted eyelashes and a frighteningly real smile from Rita Skeeter. He preferred nasty to flirtatious, one being much easy to stand than the other. Clearly, thinking she had made an ally, she slipped in a much more personal question, laced with her own particular brand of bitchiness.

“I know Miss Granger has a penchant for celebrity wizards, and they don’t come much more celebrity than you.”

Rita was a little disappointed that neither of her subjects responded immediately to her barbed flattery, but continued with her fluttering eyelashes.

“But what does the real Lucius Malfoy really gain from all of this humanitarianism?”

She toyed playfully with the fur at the hem of her skirt, her eyes twinkling at Lucius.

Hermione tempered her rising anger, this time it was she who brushed some imaginary entity from her dark suit, not looking at the Daily Prophet columnist as she spoke.

“Your slight of me aside Miss Skeeter, I think that question comes outside of your purview, I think it would _bug_ the Minister to think you were straying outside of your remit. And I would hate to _jar_ his nerves by bringing it up.”

Lucius got the distinct impression he was missing something, even if it wasn’t Hermione’s odd choice of words or how annoyed the small blonde looked. Nor did it escape his attention the daggers which were cast in Hermione’s direction and how quickly the nasty blonde backed off. He knew the two women had history, but he had no idea what it was, he really wished he’d sought to find out what it was.

“You cannot blame a girl for trying, my readers have certain expectations from my articles.”

Hermione bit back the retort about the truth not being one of them, that danced on the tip of her tongue, along with a few choice words about scandalisation.

“And I am sure you will meet all of their expectations.”

It was again Lucius who jumped in with the unexpectedly flattering words. Omitting the silent, _no matter how low they might be_ from his sentence, before continuing with yet more pandering to the clearly smitten reporter. Hermione had told him to look for a way of getting to her and he’d certainly found it.

“After all I am certain that this is the first interview Miss Granger has given to anyone, something of a coup for you and your newspaper.”

Lucius certainly seemed to have won Rita Skeeter over with his fawning, insincere as it might be, vein as she was the reporter failed to notice, her demeanour changing every time he spoke to her. Again, she didn’t miss a chance, her voice taking on a far more seductive tone.

“Perhaps you would like to give me another more _personal_ scoop, I am sure my readers would enjoy a more in-depth profile of the reformed man helping the Ministry of Magic and one third of the Golden Trio.”

Lucius noticed the feathered tip of his quill meet the tip of Rita Skeeter’s tongue, he made a mental note to let her keep it.  

“I do not give interviews Miss Skeeter, my private life is my own _affair_ , and I think that enough has already been written about me, truthful or not, I really am _not_ that interesting.”

His grey eyes were fixed on the woman sitting directly opposite him, his pointed dig drifting easily over her tightly curled blonde head. They drifted over her flirtatiously, a knowing smile lifting his lips.

“I am doing this as a personal favour for both Miss Granger and Kingsley Shacklebolt, I am sure that _you_ understand.”

Hermione chewed her bottom lip, she knew Lucius far too well, his eyes might be twinkling, his mouth might be smiling, but those flared nostrils and white knuckles told her everything she needed to know. However, she to admit, to those uneducated in the art of Lucius Malfoy, he was extremely convincing. The reporter was eating out of his hand, and from a strictly feminine perspective she knew it wasn’t an act.  

“Oh, but of course, but if you change your mind, you can always owl me. You could always owl me anyway.”

Her tinkling girlish giggle resonated around the office, her smile fading as she cast daggers in Hermione’s direction, before one more smiling sweetly and flirtatiously at Lucius Malfoy.

 


	80. Forward Thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My continued thanks for lovely comments and kudos. My sincere apologies for not posting as usual, but well without going into details, I have not been in the mood to read or to write, so you will have to hang in their with me for a while. Usual apologies for any errors brain in not in a good place at the moment so they are hard to spot.
> 
> All of that said I hope you enjoy this naughty little chapter.

 

“I think I need a shower, or at the very least a cleansing charm.”

Lucius visibly baulked at the recollection of his flirtatious encounter with Rita Skeeter.

“Well it’s your own fault, you turned on the charm offensive.”

Hermione folded her arms and shook her head, her brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Flashing those irresistible grey eyes of yours at her, and using that seductive tone. Offering her your quill no less. Why did you let her keep it by the way?”

He remained lounging comfortably on the large sofa in Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office, enjoying Hermione’s flattering adjectives, but none the less still feeling like he’d been crawled over by some slimy insect.

“Didn’t you notice her sucking on the feather? I certainly wasn’t putting that back in my pocket. I really feel like some horrible insect has crept all over me. What a truly unpleasant woman.”

Hermione found herself biting her tongue once more, if only Lucius knew just how close to the truth his words were, but much as she loathed Rita Skeeter, she wasn’t sure revealing her secret to Lucius was such a good idea, well not at this moment in time at least.

“Oh, and speaking of odd interactions.”

Hermione wasn’t aware they were any.

“What was going on between you two? You said a couple of strange things and she backed off very quickly.”

Hermione thought hurriedly, her poker face when it came to Lucius was still not that good, and she wouldn’t lie to him.

“It was nothing really, we just have some history going back to when I was at Hogwarts, hence her jibe about me and _celebrity wizards._  Let’s just say, I put her very much in her place back then, a place at times I think I should have kept her in, and she has been very wary of me ever since.”

Lucius accepted her words without question, he nevertheless got the distinct impression that he was missing something, or that Hermione wasn’t telling him everything, but he really wasn’t that keen to know any more about the Daily Prophet reporter than he needed to. He really had had his fill for one day.

“It will be interesting to see what she does write, especially without the aid of that quick quotes quill of hers.

“I really thought she was going to spontaneously combust when it wouldn’t work. Until the chivalrous Mister Malfoy came to her assistance that was.”

Lucius shuddered once more at the thought of the petite blonde woman. His revulsion clearly reflected in his face.

“After all the things, she wrote about me, she was still happy to flirt with me, even have the audacity to suggest I owl her. Would you believe it.”

Lucius spoke as if Hermione, had missed it all, she smiled indulgently at him, a very, I told you so look pinned on her face.  His naivety and his disbelief more than a little endearing.

“Yes, I would believe it, it proves my point perfectly entirely.”

“How so?” Lucius’ visceral disbelief was replaced by one of overt curiosity.

“Would you wantonly flirt with a _wife beater_ , suggest a _serial adulterer_ owl you?”

Hermione hated reminding Lucius of the things printed in the Daily Prophet about him, knowing how much they had hurt him, but seeing the realisation in his face made it worth it.

“I am not one to defend Mrs Malfoy, but I am sure whatever she did say to Rita Skeeter, it was nowhere near as bad as she would have us believe.  She just needed a source, a little smoke, that poisonous quick quotes quill lit the fire and did the rest.” 

Lucius looked at Hermione, having escorted Rita Skeeter to the door when she left, she had not resumed her seat next to him, but was resting on the edge of the Minister’s large heavy desk.

“That thought had occurred to me too, I think perhaps I should tell Draco when he gets back. Whatever has happened between Narcissa and I, it should not come between her and Draco, he is still her son.”

“I am sure Draco would appreciate that. When will he be back?”

“He said Monday, so I assume he will be at the Manor when we get home.”

One of those small flushes crept over Hermione, at Lucius’ choice of words, she was sure it was just a turn of phrase, but it stirred a whole string of emotions in the young witch, ones which she hoped she had concealed from Lucius.

“Perhaps……” Lucius finally rose from the sofa and moved to stand in front of her.

“Perhaps, we could do it together, after dinner maybe. You have been here throughout all of this, you’ve had dealings with Rita Skeeter before, and it would be a lot easier if you were there. You know what Draco is like.”

His easy reference to her knowing what his son was like, coupled with the domesticity of the image, unnerved Hermione just a little bit more, and not for the reasons she would have expected, but she couldn’t say no.

“Of course, whatever you think is best Lucius, I am happy to help.”

“Thank you.”

His smile was appreciative, if a little reticent.

“I know you said you would help me, I do not expect that to include my son. It’s just Draco listens to you and he talks to you. As it would appear, does his father.”

Hermione flushed even deeper at his words, trying to play them down.

“It’s what I do Lucius…it’s.”

Lucius interrupted her quickly:

“I know, and I know you are going to assure me, it’s part of your job, but even what little I know about what you do, I think you have gone well beyond your work parameters for Draco and I, especially after how we treated you. I….”

“No!” She unfolded her arms and raised her hand abruptly.

“Lucius, we are not having that conversation again. It is in the past, you and I have moved on, Draco and I have moved on. We…….”

“It suits you.” This time it was Lucius who interrupted, halting the telling off he knew he was about to get, and enjoying the sudden perplexity which crossed Hermione’s face. He took a step nearer.

“What does?”

“This office, your prim suit and tied back hair, being bossy and authoritative.” His hand traced the lapel of her jacket.

She overlooked his cheeky words, and tried to ignore the heat pooling low in her belly, the tingling sensation in her breasts as Lucius moved even closer. She put her hand up against his chest, preventing him advancing any further.

“Hmm, if I was Minister of Magic.” Hermione’s voice took on an even firmer tone.

“I don’t think you would be taking such liberties with me Mister Malfoy. I am a little impressed though.”

This time it was Lucius’ turn to look curious: “Impressed? By what?”

“By you, by your _forward thinking.”_  Hermione was pushing her luck quoting the Daily Prophet reporter at him, she was pushing it even further as she continued.

“That a man of your upbringing, of your heritage, could even think of a woman as Minister of Magic, let alone a Mudblood.”

She felt him tense slightly beneath her hand, but Lucius Malfoy had come a long way in the last few weeks. In the last week alone. He had gotten to know Hermione a lot better, in more ways than one. Her tones of voice, her body language, there was that phrase again and with it came that surging ball of heat.

There were some things she could tease him about now, and get away with, before he would have reacted very differently. She’d already helped him and he was blissfully unaware of it.

“I think whatever happens now, I will be _forward thinking,_ just to spite that nasty woman.” A repulsed sneer lifted his lips.

“And heritage and upbringing be buggered. Gender and breeding be buggered, as you pointed out earlier, facts are key. You are exceptionally well qualified for the job, and of course, are much more pleasing to the eye than Kingsley.”

His proximity was overwhelming, his presence as formidable as ever, that heady cologne of his mesmerising. It would have been easy to be flattered by his words and carried away by a lot more besides, but this was still Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office. Maybe one day, a long time in the future, if she was Minister of Magic she would enjoy having Lucius Malfoy across _her_ desk, but for the time being that wasn’t going to happen. She stood up sharply pushing him backwards, adopting her best bossy and authoritative tone.

“Well if Draco’s father does listen to me, I think …….”

Lucius had obliterated the small amount of space she had put between them with her authoritative shove backwards. His lips silencing her words, they were soft, but firm. The small ball of heat which had been simmering in Hermione’s belly exploded. Her mouth responded to his with same explosive fire which burned in her body, their tongues twisting together in a fervent exchange. Hermione arched into the dark wizard, the flames fanned by the hard, powerful man pressed against her. Hermione again found herself against the solid, unyielding wood of Kingsley Shacklebolt’s desk.

_Kingsley Shacklebolt’s_ desk, the little voice in her head screamed coolly over the searing heat. Hermione’s brain tried to find its own cold spot, finally separating her mouth from Lucius’, and shaking her head.

“No.” The word was barely audible in her breathlessness.

She wanted Lucius as much as he clearly wanted her.  His sudden and unexpected desire for her was not only exciting but another breakthrough.  Silently, Hermione heard another chain of the past, clatter to the floor. A few short weeks ago, even a few days ago, the rules of propriety that governed Lucius Malfoy would not have allowed him to even think such things, let alone act on them. Mind you, in thinking that, Hermione had never shared anything but a chaste kiss in the Ministry, her own thoughts never having ventured into the realms of anything else, she shook the mental image of herself and Ronald Weasley in such a situation, quickly from her thoughts. Today however, it was her turn to be ruled by propriety. This was after all the office of the Minister of Magic. She saw that awful uncertainty cloud Lucius’ impassioned features. His own voice was quiet and equally as breathy as he spoke.

“Sorry, my instincts are clearly…..”

Without him even finishing the sentence, Hermione knew exactly where he was going with his words. It was easy to get carried away in the heat of the moment, she would not allow him to blame himself in any other way. She returned her lips to his, speaking seductively against them.

“No…not here.” Her lips brushed against the mellifluence of his hair. “But I have an office of my own.”

That awful cold uncertainty in his eyes was replaced once more with twinkling, heated lust.

 

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure of the sequence events that followed. Having wafted Lucius travel cloak from the coat stand to its owner, he carried it over his arm, holding it concealingly against his body. As they had left the Minister’s office, he had walked a little awkwardly, bidding a pleasant goodbye to a somewhat stunned Drusilla Barnes. By the time her brain caught up with her suggestive words to Lucius, her body was already perched on the, not quite so large, but equally hard desk in her own office, with a deliciously menacing Lucius Malfoy standing before her.

“So, about those instincts.” She asked, folding her arms in that same bossy authoritative fashion as she had done in the Minister’s office.

“I think perhaps you are developing a table fetish, first the library, now here.” Her voice had that same prim tone.

Lucius took a step forward, his hand toying with the hem on Hermione’s unfortunate pencil skirt.

“Don’t forget the kitchen.”

His hand drifted tantalisingly between her knees moving them gently apart, or as far as the tight unforgiving material would allow.

More heat flooded Hermione’s body, her face burned at his words, had her thoughts that morning in the kitchen been so transparent? Obviously, they had.

“I won’t don’t worry.” Her smile was feline to say the very least, his inference noted for future reference.  

Lucius, somewhat disappointingly removed his hand from between her knees, it drifted to the sharply fitted jacket she wore, where his fingers resumed their dalliance with the lapels.  The three small buttons which secured the dark material were efficiently and skilfully dealt with, slipped from their fastenings with three languid, single handed movements. The jacket fell open to reveal her creamy silk blouse.  Those same skilful fingers found a new prey, and more buttons, this time he teasingly dispensed with only a few, leaving the gossamer like fabric gapping open invitingly. The lace of her bra and the swell of her rapidly rising and falling breasts, enjoying his immodest grey gaze, his large warm hand dipping beneath one layer of silkiness to savour another. Her skin reacting to his touch immediately, one nipple peaking against his fingers, the other straining against the confines of her clothing.  His touch wasn’t gentle, nor was it harsh, its firm, boldness was exquisite.

Hermione heard Lucius mutter something, expecting her clothes to quite possibly vanish as they had done previously, no she remained fully clothed. Perhaps it had been a charm of some sort to ensure their privacy, no she remembered doing that herself when they entered the room. Lucius’ free hand returned once more to the hem of her skirt, she concealed a small smile of amusement. The severe tailoring of her outfit, included that rather tightly fitted pencil skirt, or it appeared, it had done when she put in on earlier that morning.  Lucius hand moved easily and freely between her knees, her long legs parting wantonly, the much softer material no longer restricting her movement. A slow, knowing smirk curled Lucius lips, his grey eyes twinkled with crystal intensity. His hand moved higher, the material bunching at his touch. Very clever, thought Hermione as the more pliant fabric rose yet higher with his hand, revealing the tops of some lacy stockings.  Both of Lucius’ hands came to rest upon the delicate weave, his thumbs biting into the soft fleshy part of her inner thighs which peaked from their tops, the action causing Hermione to gasp. She met his fierce lustful gaze.

Hermione’s brain was, as it often was torn in two. But this time that divide had nothing to with sensibility or logic. One half, wanted this most formidable of men to do everything, to dominate her completely. The other half wanted her own form of domination, wanted to enjoy the fact this was her office, she was in charge here. It was that office, the way she looked right now and everything that went with it that was turning Lucius on so much, driving his every move.  The latter won, her outstretched hand brushed across the front of his taut trousers, eliciting a deep sigh from him.

The instincts and feelings that surged through Lucius’ body were brutally primal; his body had been stirring since Hermione had perched quite innocently on the edge of Kingsley Shacklebolt’s desk.  Recognising those same basic urges as the ones he had felt in the library a few days earlier.  The man of old would have brushed them aside with latent disgust, brandishing them unthinkable; but the feelings and desires Hermione had stirred in him, would not be dismissed so easily. It was as if she had him under some spell or enchantment, that he had to act on them or be damned. Oh, she did, but Lucius realised there was no real magic involved, it was simply the charm and enchantment of Hermione herself.  She made him feel alive in every way. The briefest of touches, be they reassuring or sexual, made him feel something. The hand that brushed across his straining erection certainly made him feel alive.  His brain was still a little buried in the past, struggling to understand why his body was so aroused by the same act, just in a different place, why was it simply so erotic. His mind was getting well beyond caring. It was learning to enjoy new things, new sensations, it was loving basking in pleasure and joy and not enduring hatred and pain.

Hermione’s slender hand moved across the neat crease at the front of Lucius’ immaculately pressed trousers, she ignored the button at the waistband, leaving it tightly fastened, instead her deft fingers pulled at the zipper, the metal teeth whirring slowly as she lowered it. Sexy, feline brown, met wicked, smouldering silver, Hermione watched his pupils enlarge as her hand slipped inside the small opening, stroking his hot aroused flesh. Her gaze didn’t waiver as her fingers curled around his burgeoning erection, pulling it free from the confines of his clothing, it stood pale and rigid against darkness of his robes, his pupils enlarged still further as she stroked him once more, tugging him gently forward.

With her much more flexible skirt now bunched across her thighs, Lucius gripped her hips so she was right on the very edge of her desk, her body just about level with his.  He didn’t remove any of her clothing, an incredibly erotic gesture in itself, he merely moved her knickers to one side, his fingers tormenting in the process, as they grazed her heated wet flesh. A moment later the tip of his heavy cock rested against that same hot damp flesh, her own arousal, gushing to meet him. Their eyes were still intensely locked, as his swollen flesh pressed at her glistening opening. Lucius grabbed her legs by the back of the knees and pulled her sharply forward, impaling her on his unyielding flesh. A sharp sigh of satisfaction, mingled with a throaty pleasured purr, a purr which deepened as he moved backwards, taking a pleasured moan with him, and pushing back into a louder seductive groan of delight, and a body which tightened and quivered around his own throbbing skin.  He felt Hermione’s legs lift and fold around him, his cock moved in still deeper, until he could go further, buried to the hilt in her silky slick body. The angle of their hips gave him access to even sweeter depths, he withdrew once more, then he thrust in harder, in deeper, against her, inside her, quickly he established a rhythm, just as quickly he found his own pleasure rushing headlong to meet him. Her body was incredibly tight at this angle, so wet for him and so utterly responsive, it pushed him harder and faster, it pulled him quicker and with more ferocity.

There was something so deliciously illicit about the entire thing, and something so freeing about seeing Lucius like this, Hermione revelled in that wanton freedom as well as the sheer beauty of his powerful aroused body and what it was doing to her. It was too quick, but they were in her office for Merlin’s sake, The Head of Wizard Welfare and Rehabilitation and a former Death Eater having sex on her desk, in that moment there was something about that almost forbidden mental image that drove Hermione closer to Lucius Malfoy. Her undulating body tightened in impatient desire, her hands found their way to his shoulders, steadying herself against him, somehow it seemed to intensify their union, if that was even possible. It was an intensity whose need found its way to Hermione’s lips, she was _almost_ done with her own domination, in more ways than one …...

“Fuck me Lucius, hard.”  

For a moment, he stilled against her, his countenance caught somewhere between utter shock and uninhibited desire, their bodies fused together in the closest most intimate way possible. Her words were crude, demanding and quite possible completely out of character, but her own expression didn’t falter, there was much more behind them than an unpolished insistence for rough sex. 

Then she saw it, quite possibly at the very moment Lucius felt it; the burning desire remained on his aristocratic features, but the shock was replaced by liberty, it washed over his face like a deluge of cool refreshing water. Hermione silently heard more shackles of the past smashing to the floor, this time much louder. Whatever demons and nightmares from his former life Lucius had still to confront and accept, the soul destroying, second guessing himself as a man was no longer a part of that. Being able to enjoy himself in this way, free of guilt, to go with just his male instincts without fear, or without concern of upsetting Hermione, was a release from a prison all of its own. Unlocked by that short crude request.

Lucius didn’t speak, actions spoke louder than words, and who was he to deny her _request._ He drove powerfully into her, hard and fast, picking up that glorious rhythm once more, it took only moments for him to send her rushing into a wave of release, her legs trembling against him, her body convulsing around his cock, her juices coating him with a slick silky heat that drew his own violent shuddering climax almost uncontrollably from his body.

They all but melted against each other, seeping into each other as they gradually came down from their passionate high, their location irrelevant, their positions immaterial. Neither of them uttered a word, the staggered sound of their breathing the only noise in the large room, until a sharp knock on the door could be heard, springing them apart like two guilty teenagers, hit by an expelliarmus.

 


	81. What Kind of Day Has It Been?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your lovely comments and wishes, they have really have been uplifting at this time. My head is still not really in the zone, so I am grateful that I have a few chapters in hand. Please forgive any mistakes etc, as even reading through stuff previously written, my brain isn't as sharp as it usually is. 
> 
> With that in mind, this chapter is a "Marmite" chapter, you are either going to love it or hate it. I am sure the purist out there will hate it but as I've said before it's fanfiction, and how this one fan wanted to go with it so I do hope that you enjoy it, if you don't ... hey ho, so be it :-)

Hermione glanced at an uncharacteristically flustered and rather perturbed Lucius. Rebuttoning her blouse and her jacket with a quick spell, she couldn’t help but smile. Feeling her skirt constrict once more, about her still rather shaky legs as she smoothed it down, walking across the room towards the door.

Casting a spell to cleanse or to tidy anything, including yourself, was easy enough, removing the glow and somewhat guilty demeanour which clung to them both, not so much.  Throwing another quick look in Lucius’ direction, she opened the door to her office.

“Harry!” Her calm, welcoming voice, belied her summersaulting insides, she took a step back opening the door further and allowing him into her office.

“Your door was locked.” He said warily, the anxiety in his tone evident.

Hermione tried to keep the flush that spread through her body, from reaching her face, avoiding Harry’s concerned look.

“Oh, Merlin no, it was probably stuck again.” Her tone was dismissive and light as she gave her old friend a big smile.  

“I must get someone to look at it. It’s just I am not here that often so I forget, then when I am, that happens. Getting out is fine, it’s just getting in.”

She laughed outright this time, relaxing herself. “Perhaps it’s trying to tell me something.”

As she really didn’t like lying to her friends in any shape or form, no matter how small or white it was, Hermione had indeed used a firm sticking charm on her office door. That way if anyway had tried to come in, an alohomora, would not have worked and technically, she wasn’t telling a fib. Harry seemed to accept her excuse, as he cast a bespectacled eye on her guest.

“Ron told me he’d seen you, I just came to check you were ok.”

Harry knew Hermione better than anyone, and that included their red headed friend, seeing that famous spark of anger flare in her brown eyes, he knew he was on thin ice already, and went on quickly.

“I know what an arse he can be, and after what happened the last time he saw Mister Malfoy, I didn’t want you getting caught up in round two.”

Relief flooded Hermione, grateful for Harry’s concern, and thankful that it was for her encounter with her former boyfriend, and not for the company she was keeping.  She hugged him spontaneously, causing him to flush, he coughed quietly to remind her that they weren’t alone. As she released him he shuffled awkwardly and pushed his rounded glasses back up his nose.  

“That’s really sweet of you Harry. I think Ronald was spoiling for something, but between the timely arrival of Mister Weasley and a bit of a snotty reply from me, he behaved himself for once.”

She again offered her old friend a genuine and this time, very knowing smile, which Harry returned.

Hermione had regained her composure from her heated encounter with Lucius and Harry’s inopportune arrival, looking nonchalantly in Lucius’ direction now, she was confident he had too, although he still looked a little disconcerted. She wasn’t entirely sure if that was down to the untimely interruption or the fact that it was simply Harry, but she felt happy enough to draw him into the conversation. 

It was however the blonde wizard who spoke first.

Lucius was standing in front of the well laden bookcase, which took up one wall of Hermione’s ridiculously large office. He was leaning on his cane and had donned his cloak in readiness to leave. He moved with his usual catlike grace, advancing almost menacingly in his dark clothing.  Hermione was once more transported back to the old dusty bookshop in Diagon Ally, when she and Harry were children, the scene replaying before her like an old movie, especially when Lucius extended a gloved hand towards Harry.

Lucius wore the same smile as he did then, but unlike back then, Hermione noticed it’s warmth did reach his cold grey eyes. This time, his serpent headed cane remained grasped between his leather clad fingers, its tip firmly on the floor. Before he had used it to cruelly part Harry’s dark brown hair, revealing the _legendary_ lightning scar on his forehead. His words to Harry had been sneering and patronising. His demeanour exuding power and that supreme pureblood arrogance, that he wore like a crown back then.

The sudden memory, reminding her, it was also the first she had spoken to Draco’s father.

 “Mister Potter, it’s nice to see you again.”

Hermione new Lucius well enough by now to know that his words were offered genuinely, and from Harry, she sensed none of the animosity she had with Ronald Weasley. But then Harry Potter was no Ronald Weasley. When it came to his position here at the Ministry of Magic, he was more like Hermione, upholding his office with the utmost professionalism and politeness at all times, no matter whom he was addressing or whatever the situation. Ronald Weasley did not have the same maturity as Harry Potter, like Hermione, Harry had wanted to leave the past behind him, at least where and when he was able. They could think about the bigger picture, without the ghosts of the past clouding their every turn. Hermione had originally put it down to Ronald having lost his brother, but they had all lost loved ones, friends and family. She and Harry had both lost their parents, all be it in very different ways, but it gave them yet another bond. Like Kingsley Shacklebolt, Harry was very forward thinking, Hermione felt that little flush creep through her body once more.  He understood the need for it, for change and for new ideas. He understood or wanted to understand her work, much more than Ronald ever did. Ronald Weasley was quite possibly more trapped in the past and the old ways than Lucius Malfoy. The difference was, Lucius Malfoy wanted to change, wanted to move on, in that respect he and Harry had a lot in common.

He courteously took Lucius Malfoy’s proffered hand, just as he had done all those years ago, although his grip was a lot firmer and more confident, even if his expression was equally as wary as it had been back then. Perhaps she was viewing this through some rather rose tinted glasses, but she could at some point see Lucius and Harry actually talking to each other and with civility at that.

“Mister Malfoy. How are you?”

Harry returned Lucius’ manners with equal good grace, if perhaps a little more stilted.

“Well, thank you.”

There was an awkward silence, as each person in the room looked from one to the other.  Harry clearly unsure of what further small talk to make with the former Death Eater, or what to say to Hermione in front of him. Hermione in turn, was a little nervous, worried that Harry might pick up on something, and at the same time, not prepared to divulge Lucius’ reason for being here, although the article in the Daily Prophet would reveal that soon enough. Lucius looked from Hermione to Harry, again it was he who spoke first, his words stunning both Hermione and Harry into continued silence.

“Mister Potter, this might seem a little inopportune, and a little out of the blue, but our paths rarely cross, so I feel I should take the opportunity……I owe you a great debt of gratitude, which is long overdue.”

His voice was as clipped as ever, but laced with sincerity.

“I hope that if nothing else you will forgive me that.”

This time it was Hermione whose gaze wavered between the dark wizard and her friend, her brain racing frantically. This caught even the young witch, total unawares, and had nothing to do with any rose-tinted spectacles, but then Lucius was proving to be full of the unexpected today.  Behind Harry’s slightly smudged glasses, she could also see the shock and puzzlement in his blue eyes.

Lucius continued to speak, clearly needing to finish, what it had taken him a lot of nerve to start.

“I owe you my son’s life. I do not believe _anyone_ in my family has ever thanked you for that.”

Looks were this time exchanged between the two old school friends, very surprised looks at that. Obviously, Draco had told his father. Although from their expressions, it was clear both were astonished that he had. But nothing matched their amazement at Lucius’ impromptu words of gratitude.

Someone had rewritten a scene or two in that old movie that had been replaying over in Hermione’s head.

Lucius had grasped an opportunity, applied his _newly acquired_ instincts to a very different situation, from the deafening silence which greeted his words, he wasn’t sure they were serving him very well in this instance either. He had hoped that someone would say something at this point; the briefest acknowledgement would have sufficed, all things considered, he deserved little else, especially from the Potter boy, but from Hermione, he couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. But then reality kicked in, assuring him it wasn’t her place to speak for the younger man, and speaking for himself in any way would have been extremely inappropriate.

Ironically it was Harry who saw the discomfort on the older man’s face.

“I’m sorry Mister Malfoy, I am just a bit taken aback.”

He noticed the blonde’s brow rise, oddly he saw a spark of anger in his grey eyes, remarkably similar to the one he had seen in Hermione’s. Harry seemed to be making a habit of this.

“That Draco told you about _it,_ that is _?”_

Just like Hermione, he saw Lucius Malfoy’s anger quickly dissipate, fortunately it did not manifest itself into an embrace of any kind. But he saw realisation, and if he wasn’t mistaken sadness seep into the other man’s strong features.

That even Harry Potter, knew about the relationship, or rather the lack of it that he’d had with his son, after the war had ended, did not go unnoticed by Lucius. Perhaps it was Hermione’s presence, that gave him that same need to be honest, he admirably met the unspoken question, head on.

“Draco told his mother, not me.”

His voice now echoed that sadness, but he raised his head maintaining his stoic, aristocratic demeanour.

“Narcissa told me, at the time, how, when…. when you were in the Forrest, you had, unseen by _others,_ reassured her that our son was alive.  Some months later she was recounting this to Draco, that was when he told her…... he was only alive because of you.”

Only moments ago, in Hermione’s ever optimistic brain, she had imagined these two men talking. She hadn’t for a single moment imaged it would be quite so soon or on such a deep personal level. Her brown eyes widened, darting between them. Settling on the older wizard; over her own surprise, she heard a distinct catch in his voice, and her heart went out to him. The words alone so difficult for anyone, but for a man like Lucius Malfoy, she knew it to be doubly so, to say them to Harry, she couldn’t even begin to imagine. Why now? Opportunity perhaps, just as he had said. Whether Harry noticed the inflection in Lucius’ voice she wasn’t sure. Harry…...her gaze flittered to her oldest friend, she was so proud of him, of the man he had become. She treasured their friendship, even if they didn’t see each other with such regularity these days, they were still very close, telling each other almost everything, what they didn’t tell each other, they simply seemed to know.

She had been with him, and of course Ronald Weasley when they had rescued Draco and his long-time friend Gregory Goyle from the Fiendfyre curse in the Room of Requirement. But Harry had never spoken very much about his time in the Forrest with Voldemort, before Hagrid had carried him back, _dead_ to Hogwarts, and certainly she knew nothing of his encounter with Narcissa Malfoy.

It seemed even after all this time, Harry still knew what Hermione was thinking. His quiet words, now directed at her and not a response to Lucius, who had of course witnessed the encounter, if not heard the exchange itself, first hand.

“After Voldemort cast the killing curse. Coward that he was, he sent someone over to check, see if I was actually dead.”

Glancing briefly at Lucius Malfoy, Harry noticed the older man watching Hermione with equal intensity, concern almost, he carried on.

“I was lying face down on the Forrest floor, I didn’t dare move a muscle. I had no idea who he’d sent, but I remember feeling these unexpectedly soft hands touching my chest, searching for a heartbeat.”

Harry really didn’t need to tell this story, Lucius Malfoy had been there, and whatever his relationship with his wife was now, the younger wizard was certain Narcissa Malfoy would have given him a full account of their exchange, but for some reason he felt compelled to and in some detail. Feeling he owed it to Hermione, maybe because he felt a little guilty, she was after all his closest friend, but  the only one in the room who didn’t know the whole story.

“I felt someone crouch at my back and this long hair tickled my face, I tried desperately not to move or try and brush it away, for someone supposed to be dead, my heart was beating as fast as hers.”

Harry gave Hermione a small ironic smile, for a moment it was as if they were alone in the room.

This day was taking yet another very surreal turn, it seemed that the uttering of short uncharacteristic sentences was having strange, revealing effects on people.

“I knew whoever it was, would feel my heart pounding and…. and then she spoke, this whispered voice at my ear, that long hair covering my face, almost shielding me, asking me if Draco was alive, I realised it was Mrs Malfoy, I nodded or said yes, I can’t remember which, and she stood up, confirming my _death.”_

When Lucius had taken the opportunity to extend his thanks to Harry, he wasn’t grandstanding in any way. It never for one moment occurred to him that Hermione, would not know about the exchange between his wife and her friend. A little tinge of guilt crept up his spine, that he had perhaps betrayed a confidence, watching in silent admiration as the younger man patiently recounted it, the clarity and detail with which he spoke, the gentleness in his voice. His obvious affection for Hermione, his need for his friend to know and understand, it reminded the dark wizard of how Hermione often spoke to him.  Lucius’ intense grey gaze drifted between the two old school friends. He remembered telling Hermione, only a few days earlier, how he had _despised the Potter Boy_ and why, the way that hatred had amplified because of his obviously deep kinship with Hermione herself.

How little these two friends had changed, since they were 12 years old, they had been through so much together in their young lives, more than some people do in a lifetime, but their friendship remained constant and was stronger than ever. The connection between them, even now was quite extraordinary, Lucius could almost feel it, touch it. Hermione had said some things to Lucius over the last week or so, things which he hadn’t totally understood or comprehended. It was only now seeing her with Harry, witnessing that same connection, first hand, all these years later, that her words truly made sense. 

Harry returned his attention to Lucius.

“I think Mister Malfoy, I too have a debt of gratitude, and overdue thanks, to your wife, had she not _verified my death_ , I would surely have been killed.”

Lucius nodded his head in acknowledgement of Harry’s words, he simply didn’t trust himself to speak. Looking weak and more than a little foolish in front of Hermione was one thing, but his pureblood pride would not allow to that to happen in front of Harry Potter, no matter what. Something his pureblood pride did respect unreservedly was the younger man’s humility. Lucius had every reason to be indebted to Harry, his thanks and a lot more besides, were no more than Harry deserved. Lucius and his family on the other hand were certainly not worthy of such appreciation, Narcissa might have helped Harry at the time, but if it were not for many of his, and Draco’s actions, the younger man would not have been in that predicament in the first place. Nonetheless he accepted the words in the spirit in which they had been tendered, knowing, despite whatever the circumstances leading up to that moment had been, the younger man spoke the truth.

Lucius had stood amongst the watchers that day, he could still taste his own sense of terror, feel the icy cold dread which had saturated his clothing. He had felt the hatred permeating the air that day, the Dark Lord only wanting and expecting one outcome. A shiver of revulsion and shame ran cold along his spine. Lucius knew only too well he could not change what had happened in the past, his own dreadful actions, but just like with Hermione, he knew that Harry’s words, although not meant directly for him, were offering him, not forgiveness, but perhaps a second chance.

His intense and humbled grey gaze drifted between the two young people. Again, part of him felt he didn’t deserve it.  That unspoken connection between Hermione and Harry, spoke volumes, she knew exactly what her friend’s words meant. Lucius saw that all too familiar fiery brown spark, the unspoken connection that had developed between the two of them told him, he did deserve it and that he should accept it…. graciously.

Lucius finally found his voice and the certainty that it would not make him look weak or foolish.

“That is more than gracious of you Mister Potter, perhaps in this vein, we might say we are equal.”

It was Harry who simply nodded this time, his action earning him an oddly thankful smile from Hermione, one which seemed to make those big brown eyes hers sparkle, almost tearfully, for which he felt more than a little responsible.  He had after all only come to check on her wellbeing, not end up raking over ancient history and exchanging words of thanks with Lucius Malfoy, and he’d thought this was going to be a slow and uneventful day………

 


	82. Washing Away The Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always my lovely readers, lots of love and thanks for good wishes and continued lovely comments. Writing Harry always makes me nervous, but mostly I seemed to get the thumbs up so am breathing a sigh of relief...until the next time. The old brain is still sadly sidetracked, but I am getting there slowly but surely and luckily I still have a few chapters in hand, so please forgive any errors etc that I might miss.
> 
> I think I am being a little naughty with chapter, or not as the case maybe, you'll see what I mean, but I hope you enjoy it none the less...

 

Just before Harry took his leave, Hermione had found herself on the receiving end of yet another invitation to eat, her long-time friend insisting that she have dinner with him and Ginny, and that it had of course been _too long_. Just as she had done with Arthur Weasley, Hermione assured him warmly that she would, _soon_.

The owl which tapped impatiently on Hermione’s window a few moments afterwards, made the young witch smile. She didn’t spend an awful lot of time at the Ministry, and had probably spent even less time in the office Kingsley Shacklebolt insisted upon her having, but the place was getting busier than Kings Cross station.  She felt she had done and accomplished more, in the last few hours, than she had the entire time she had been working here. 

Hermione immediately recognised the black, spidery scrawl on the cream parchment as she took it from the owl’s sharp beak.

“It’s from Draco, it must have come via the Manor.”

She couldn’t help but notice that Lucius was looking a little distracted, Hermione wasn’t sure if he was thinking about his own rather unreal morning, or the contents of the note from his son.

“He says… I think….” Hermione screwed her face up at the almost illegible print.

“He has been invited to dinner party, somewhere I really cannot make out.” Even moving the paper back and forth didn’t help with Draco’s dreadful handwriting.

“And he won’t now be back until tomorrow afternoon. He hopes that is ok with father, see you then, and is signed with about the only definite thing I can make out, his name.”

Hermione viewed Lucius with a look of humorous despair, it was good to hear the gentle rumble of laughter from the dark wizard, it had been a very serious, and at times tense day so far, save of course their own little _interlude._ Seeing his features relax into a genuine and open smile made her heart skip one of those funny little beats.

“Penmanship in any form was never Draco’s strong point, he was always in far too much of a rush to take any great care with it.”

Hermione remembered that all too well from their days at Hogwarts, the only thing Draco Malfoy never had any problem committing, decently to paper were nasty little doodles of his classmates.

That Draco would not be back until the following day, meant there was no rush to get back to the Manor or for Lucius to talk to him about his mother and Rita Skeeter, or anything else for that matter. All of these invitations to eat, had given Hermione an appetite or her own, not to mention an idea. One which quickly formulated into a verbal invitation.

“Would you like to have dinner with me Mister Malfoy?” She asked in all seriousness.

Lucius leant on his cane, regarding Hermione with a somewhat surprised look. They were going to speak to Draco collectively after dinner, so Lucius assumed that they would still be having dinner together, despite his son’s continued absence. The look of mischief in Hermione’s face, told him she had something rather different in mind.  Curiosity got the better of him and he went along with the little game she was clearly playing.

“I would love to Miss Granger, did you have somewhere in mind?”

The twinkle in Hermione’s warm brown eyes increased, and the vixen like smile which lit her face, told Lucius, that Miss Granger very much had somewhere in mind.

 

Hermione’s flat was small compared to her overly large office at the Ministry of Magic, returning to it now, she felt certain it would fit into the library at Malfoy Manor, and like every other unfortunate space he entered, it shrivelled with Lucius’ commanding presence. His reaction to finding himself in Hermione’s small but homely flat was not at all what the young witch had expected.

“This is your home.” He stated the obvious, seemingly a little taken aback.

She nodded, collecting the small pile of Muggle post which had accumulated on the mat in her absence, putting it on the table.

“I’ve spent the last week enjoying your hospitality, I thought it might be nice to return the…. that you might like….”

Under Lucius’ unwavering, still clearly startled gaze, she suddenly felt a little self-conscious. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea, after all the events of today, it might have been better to have just returned to Malfoy Manor, and permitted him to relax and unwind in more familiar surroundings.

“I don’t know what to say.”

His tone was almost reverent and Hermione was momentarily confused.

“How selfless of you to invite me here.”

She suddenly understood the enormity of this innocent little gesture, to Lucius. Not only was he in a very Muggle home, he was in her very Muggle home, a place sacred to her, that only a select few had ever been inside. Her invitation to Malfoy Manor, was purely, on the outside, professional. His presence in her home was anything but, and probably meant more to Lucius than she could have envisaged. She smiled almost shyly at him, not regretting it for an instant, whatever his interpretation was. 

She kept her own perspective, but savoured Lucius’ reaction none the less.

Once he had removed his cloak and his jacket, her flat seemed to return to its normal size, adapting around his unexpected, very male presence, he followed her into the kitchen. Hermione handed him a bottle of wine and a corkscrew. Without question, and without the use of magic, he plunged the spiralled metal into the neck of the bottle, removing the cork. Smiling at Hermione as she held out two empty glasses, he decanted a small amount of the dark red liquid into each one.

He raised his glass to her, those penetrating grey eyes still firmly holding hers.

“Thank you.”

Hermione’s shy smile returned, she knew he wasn’t just thanking her for the wine, or even the invitation. Those two simple and heartfelt words seemed to cover _everything._

“It’s my pleasure Lucius.” She felt the unexpected sting of tears creep up on her and putting her glass on the counter, quickly turned towards the fridge freezer.

“Now, food.” She did her best to keep her voice level as she opened the door.

“I always freshly prepare things before I go away and freeze them, then when I get home there is always something in here ready to eat.”

She wittered on, sounding like an advert for a cookery programme or supermarket.

Fortunately, she had replenished her supplies before departing for Malfoy Manor, so there was a good selection of _ready meals_ Hermione style all set to go.  As she rooted amongst the assortment, she suddenly realised she knew so many profound and very personal things about the dark wizard standing in her compact kitchen, but other than, pasta, ham sandwiches and the simple meals they had shared at the Manor, she knew very little about what he liked to eat.

“Do you like chilli?” She asked, her head still firmly buried in the somewhat amusing coldness of the freezer.

Lucius was rather enjoying the spectacle before him, and the inexplicable ease of the situation he found himself in. Watching the ever-enticing curve of Hermione’s bum as she jiggled around in the white cupboard, steeped in cooling charms. And the fact she treated him being in her home, like an everyday occurrence.

“I don’t know, I don’t think I have ever had it, but I am sure it’s delicious.” His eyes feasted upon a little more wriggling.

“Oh, it is, and I seem to have made rather a lot of it.” Her freezing hands were covered in white frost as she held a large container filled ironically with chilli.

“It won’t take long to cook either.”

Lucius continued to watch, a little intrigued he had to admit, as she placed the container into another white appliance and this time pressed some buttons. A light came on and the small counter top machine, made an odd whirring sound. He could see something moving inside, the container with the chilli, going around and around. Suddenly there was a loud ping and Hermione, removed the dish.

“Is that it? He asked unable to contain his curiosity.

Hemione had removed the food from the freezer and placed it in the microwave, almost on autopilot, pressing buttons in the same automaton like fashion. She hadn’t forgotten Lucius’ presence, how could she? But she had forgotten that Lucius did very little without the aid of magic, her little, home from work routine, completely alien to him.

Taking a sip of her wine she smiled at him.

“Nope, it will take a little longer than the few minutes it did to defrost.”

She answered his unspoken question: “Except for the ironing, I do most things here without the use of magic, although I suppose the microwave is a little Muggle magic of its own.”

Hermione sensed she was losing Lucius, with her chatter of such boring, domestic things, but his smile was indulgent nonetheless.

“You’re…. it’s quite fascinating to watch.” He too took a sip of his wine, trying to hide not only where his thoughts had been, but also his ignorance of her Muggle kitchen.

Hermione noticed Lucius little slip, but said nothing.

She really didn’t feel like preparing the remainder of their meal in her smart work suit, and it would be nice to relax, put on something more comfortable. She bit back a smile at the rather clichéd expression. Also, despite that cleansing charm from earlier, she felt she needed to freshen up properly, that was only going to happen under the pummelling hot jets of her shower. Viewing Lucius over the rim of her glass, an image flashed through her mind, one which she quickly _attempted_ to banish.   Her living room and her kitchen had already withered with Lucius’ presence, her small bathroom wouldn’t stand a snowballs chance in hell, but the loud uncorking of the wine, and its rich aromatic flavours had clearly woken the little devil. Her involvement with Lucius Malfoy, and his intriguing and intoxicating ubiquity, had clearly woken a very different side of Hermione.

Being back in her small London flat, acted as a sharp reminder to Hermione, that she would not be at Malfoy Manor for ever, her time with Lucius, whilst not imminently coming to an end, would at some point be over. The notion of him not just being there, of his company, of him wanting her, sent a sudden and incomprehensible rush of panic through the young witch, something else she tried to dispel with equal rapidity.

So far, they hadn’t spoken about any of the events of the day, not the interview with the loathsome Rita Skeeter, not their own very unexpected and very amorous _encounter_ , nor about Harry’s visit and his subsequent exchange with both of them. Perhaps reminding Lucius of his flirtation with the Daily Prophet reporter would be an _interesting and fun_ place to start, artfully of course.

“Well before I cook anything, after that meeting with Rita Skeeter, I definitely need more than just a cleansing charm.”

Lucius pulled the same revolted face he had done in her office earlier, his distaste, still very much in evidence.

“Do not remind me, I still feel as if I have been coated in some kind of mucosal secretion.”

Politely and articulately put as always, thought Hermione, although the image itself, as well as the actuality was far from it, she shuddered taking another sip of her wine and withdrew her wand from her pocket, pointing it at a rather startled Lucius.

“Cleansing charm or soap and water?”

The startled look in his eyes, turned to a twinkle, she was becoming rather familiar with.

The amorous twinkle in his eyes, turned to fear, a fear she was also, all too familiar with.

 

Just like the rest of Hermione’s flat, the bathroom was small. Pocket-sized she liked to call it, despite its lack of size, the space was utilised to perfection. One of the things that Hermione loved most about the room, other than its unusual circular, porthole type window, was the fact that it had a separate shower and bath. This was made possible, as the deep white tub was a corner unit. She’d transfigured the bath in her room at Malfoy Manor to enable her and Lucius to share, but thought her shower might prove more enjoyable here.  As the glass door, had clicked shut behind them and the heated water sprayed onto their closely fitted, naked bodies, Hermione had felt Lucius tremble. She’d initially assumed it was the sudden forceful gush making contact with his skin, but amidst the gentle steam, his paler than usual face and the fretful look in his grey eyes told a very different story.

She went to turn it off, but Lucius large, clearly trembling hand covered hers, stopping her, he shook his head. Hermione’s brain raced faster than usual. It couldn’t be the deluge of water, Malfoy Manor was not big on Muggle inventions, but it did have showers. There was one over the tub in her bathroom and Lucius had cubicle almost the size of this room, adjoining his……that was it, of course it was, it stood to reason, how could she not have realised…. the space or lack of it. Suddenly it dawned on her, the small confined space, the door clicking tightly and securely shut behind them. It had never occurred to Hermione before, but then everything about Malfoy Manor was on such a grand scale, was so big, there were no tiny restrictive spaces to remind Lucius of his incarceration, to make him feel imprisoned or trapped in any way.

Hermione was not going to allow this tiny, restrictive space to remind Lucius of his incarceration either. If he was to feel imprisoned, it would be simply by his own pleasure, trapped only by need. She had all but enticed him in here, to relax and to wash away the dirty feeling Rita Skeeter had left him with. Once again with such a simple, mundane action, Hermione was going to be washing away a lot more than just the residual filth and grime of today.

 

 


	83. Slipping Through My Fingers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well the little grey cells, seem to be wanting to get back to it, mainly for a distraction, but I can live with that. So my continued thanks for all of your lovely comments and for your support both for the story and me :-) xx
> 
> With that comes the usual apologies for well you know everything really. So how will out little Gryffindor help Lucius over his fear....you might be surprised.......enjoy.........

 

“I can’t I….” There was low regret in his usually assertive tones.

Hermione took a small step into Lucius, even though they remained untouching, she could feel the anxiety emanating from his body, could feel the rigid tension in his muscles. Lucius veered backwards, and Hermione knew at that precise moment it was taking every inch of will power the dark wizard possessed not to push open the glass door, and flee.  She couldn’t begin to imagine what he must have endured, that such terror would engulf him so much, even in a situation like this.

She held his uneasy grey gaze with her own, reassuring him with only the tenderness and expression in her face. He had tackled so much already, she didn’t want him to be defeated now, but at the same time she didn’t want to make things worse, by forcing him to confront something, he might not be ready to, it was a very fine line. Only Lucius himself could determine the steps he was ready to take, and in this instance, she couldn’t and wouldn’t push him, she would have to allow him to guide her. Hermione reached for the controls on the shower once more, this time Lucius made no attempt to stop her, his hands remaining firmly at his side. She turned the knob marginally, stemming the flow, and reducing the steam, the water no longer pummelling their bodies, but falling on them like gentle, tropical rainfall. Her wet fingers moved from the dial, to the solid muscle of Lucius’ shoulder. Her eyes searching his face, seeking his assurance that this was okay, that he was alright.

Lucius nodded his head, it was an almost indiscernible movement, at the same time trying not to flinch at her delicate touch, it really wasn’t her touch which caused the involuntary reaction in his strained body, but in moving still closer, she had reduced the space around him even more, his heart rate accelerated and he willed himself not to move.

How weak a man he was, to let a stupid memory, emasculate and cripple with him fear in this senseless fashion. The scenario seemed ridiculous, even to him, here he was naked in a shower with a beautiful, sexy young woman, he expected a struggle to control his body, but not in this way, not to be once more fighting crippling fear, the fear of something so utterly absurd.

Lucius closed his eyes, trying to forget about the terrifyingly small space they were encased in, removing his sight, he focussed his other senses. The relaxing sound of the water, its odourless yet, clean, refreshing scent and the reassuring warmth against his skin. For the briefest of moments, the panic subsided and he allowed his eyes to drift open, only to once more find himself swamped by the overwhelming feeling of being trapped. The relaxing sound of the water, became a torturous drip, just like the one which had permeated his sleep in Azkaban. The clean refreshing scent was replaced by damp mustiness, the reassuring warmth becoming oppressive and suffocating, the panic escalated once more, it churned in his stomach, and rose violently in his throat. Lucius fought the fast-rising nausea, his mind and body in conflict with each other once more, only this time Lucius didn’t know which one he wanted to win, it was a lesser of two evils. Both of them suffering such very different reactions and effects to those dreadful memories.

Through those dark chilling recollections, Lucius felt something curl around his wrist. He blanched, all set to pull away, to free himself once more, from the shackles that constrained him.  But it wasn’t the cold steel of a manacle, it barely encircled his wrist, its touch was soft and almost unbearably light, but nonetheless it secured him to the spot. It’s gentleness, touching him somewhere deep inside, calming him from within, distracting him and refocussing his mind.  Something moved against his shoulder, and he became aware of Hermione’s wet hair as it brushed his chest, her lips moving carefully and slowly along the expanse of flesh and bone until they reached the strong column of his throat. His Adam’s apple was pounding in unison with his hammering heart, a vein throbbed and jumped in his neck and jaw.

His still unsteady fingers came up to her, stroking the wet hair which tickled his, rapidly rising and falling chest. Even through the wet heat of the shower, he could feel the very different, wet heat of her mouth. Her tongue flitting over his strong, taut muscles, acting with her mouth, they worked together, soothing and coaxing him from that shadowy place of abject fear.

The mild, heated flow of the water lashed against her, but Hermione continued with her ministrations, her slender fingers had joined her mouth, roving reassuringly and encouragingly over his body. Lightly ghosting over the muscled planes of his stomach, teasing a nipple. She edged her way back to his neck, bared and open to her as his head fell slightly backwards, his eyes closing once more, but this time to savour a very different, more welcome assault on his senses. She moved along it, licking up amidst the droplets of water that fell from his face, to his firm jaw line.

Concentrating only on Hermione, her mouth, her fingers, and her face, he gave her a nervous smile, the space seeming to swell. Her lips which had moved so softly and sweetly over his body, touched his. The kiss was just as soft and just as sweet, the warmth was no longer oppressive, but calming, no longer suffocating but reassuring.

Touching only at their mouths, Hermione felt some of the tension slip from Lucius, like the cascading water it vanished down the small hole beneath their feet.  Her lips still softly moved against his as she reached across him. For the first time her body touched his, despite the intimacy that could easily ensue, there was nothing remotely sexual about the contact. To distract Lucius in that way would be simple enough, but it wouldn’t last, the fear would come back and would still be there the next time and the time after that. He needed to be fully aware of his surroundings, not hide or escape from them by means of distraction, he had to acclimatise to them and finally be comfortable in them.

“Hold out your hand Lucius.”

It was the first time she had spoken to him since they had stepped into the small cubicle, her voice was quietly authoritative, and the dark wizard obeyed without hesitation or thought.  Hermione noticed it still trembled very slightly as she poured a generous amount of creamy liquid into the palm. She looked from his outstretched hand to his still pale face, replacing the bottle in the tiny wire basket behind him, Hermione twisted her dripping wet hair around, and in a clearly practised movement, knotted it at her nape, before turning her back on Lucius.  Nothing happened. She took an infinitesimal step backwards, the tops of her thighs brushing against him with only the merest hint of a touch, again it was nothing remotely sexual, simply a little nudge of encouragement. The creamy liquid lathered across her back with his somewhat tentative touch.

At first his hand just moved in a repetitious circle between her shoulder blades. It was as if he was in a trance, mesmerised by his own actions, which kept his mind totally focused on what he was doing and not the small space in which he was _confined._  

Over the running water, Hermione heard a deep sigh, mingled somewhere between relief and acceptance. With that his hand began to move more freely, touching her shoulders, the backs of her arms, before moving to her neck, and then dipping lower on her back, brushing the curve of her arse.  She breathed a gentle sigh of her own relief, turning to face Lucius, she held out her hand.  It was duly filled with the same, obviously feminine scented gel, which she then rubbed across his broad chest. Her hand washed and dipped only as far as his navel, before she issued an instruction for him to turn around, again he duly obeyed, stepping fully under the hot stream of water, for the first time, as he did so. Hermione smiled at his back, clearly, he was feeling a little more at ease, the muscles in his shoulders were still tight, but then she could not expect too much, too soon.  His long blonde hair, seemed even longer under the weight of the water, and Hermione indulged her fixation with his flaxen locks once more. This time reaching for another rather girly scented bottle, this time containing shampoo, which she lathered and carefully massaged into its pale length.  

Hermione didn’t linger with any of her tasks, nor did she make them anything more than they were. Had Lucius’ reaction been different, nothing would have given her more pleasure than to have indulged in some sexy, soapy fun. But her mind had quickly become focused and this had become another, somewhat unexpected step towards helping Lucius.  As she watched him move beneath the water, rinsing the soap from his body and his hair, he certainly no longer looked as if he were about to imminently flee.  She reached around him and cracked open the door, a blast of cooler air rushing into the greet them.  The dark wizard did not, as she fully expected dart out of the cubicle, he remained where he was, motionless, allowing the cooling water to drip from his body.  Of course, with the opening of the door, his fears had evaporated like the gentle steam. Hermione sought to make a silent point, slipping out first and wrapping herself in a large fluffy white towel, holding one out for her companion.

Her professionalism might have kicked in when it came to helping Lucius, allaying his fears, but looking at him now, the water still clinging to his toned body, trickling down his muscled legs and dripping from that obsessively fascinating hair of his, keeping her mind from that sexy, soapy form was no mean feat.  She pulled the towel tighter around herself, all but begging Lucius to take the one from her outstretched hand and do the same.

He did, although Hermione wasn’t entirely sure it made things any better. The towel was large enough to cover the tall blonde, adequate enough to hide his modesty, but the bits which remained exposed, wet and equally naked, were similarly as distracting. Hermione tried to keep her focus on Lucius’ face; avoiding his long legs with the light almost downy covering of dark blonde hair. Keeping her eyes averted from his strong muscled arms, fixing her gaze north of his well-toned upper body with its correspondingly fine layer of masculine hair.

His famous blonde mane, didn’t of course hang limply or unflattering about his sculpted features. It fell incredibly sexily about his face and shoulders, water dripping from its length onto the body she was desperately trying to keep her gaze from. She noticed Lucius raise his hand and sensed instinctively that he was about to cast a drying spell.

“Don’t.”

Even to her own ears her voice sounded a little harsh.

“Please.” she added softly, imploringly.

Hearing it echo off the tiles of the small room, she noticed that quizzical brow rise once more. She felt the warmth rise in her cheeks, knowing it had nothing to do with the still rather warm and misty surroundings. Hermione grasped another slightly smaller towel from heated rail, holding it slightly aloft.

“Would you allow me?”

From the moment, he’d had hair it had only ever been dried magically, by his mother, by his nursemaid or by himself. Whilst he relished the rough abrasive feel of towelling against his skin, Lucius had never extended that feeling to his head. He had in recent months taken his moods out on his skin, on his body, rubbing harshly even viciously at his flesh, but he had never taken that anger, that darkness out on his silky mane of golden hair. Both his mind and his body wondered how it would feel, not to suddenly have dry mellifluous locks, but to give himself over to the process of actually drying it, or allowing someone else’s hand to do so. A leisurely and curious smile lifted his lips and he gently nodded his wet head.

 

There were no roaring fireplaces in Hermione’s small flat, no open grates to sit in front of and allow the heat to assist with the drying.  In truth, with her own wild mass of hair, Hermine usually resorted to the aid of magic or simply tied it back allowing it to dry at its own very slow pace. 

However, one of the few things her living room did have in common with most of the rooms at Malfoy Manor was, it boasted a large very soft rug. Lucius had traded his ancient Roman look for his more familiar dark attire, his trousers at least. His upper body remained naked, as his damp hair still rested, and in places dripped on to skin. Under Hermione’s soft instruction he was now seated on that very same rug, she sat at his back on her sofa.

The room once more slipped into a comfortable silence, with each strand Hermione gently and methodically rubbed dry, she found herself recounting the last week she had spent at Malfoy Manor with its Lord and Master. It was as if she couldn’t remember a time when Lucius wasn’t part of her day, of her life, actually she couldn’t. A little bit like an alcoholic trying to recall the last day when they hadn’t had a drink. Spending time at St Mungo’s, even Azkaban, the idea of returning to Hogwarts all seemed like an age ago.

His hair continued to slip through her caressing fingers, each piece gradually becoming devoid of moisture. It didn’t seem just like an age ago, but also like a different lifetime, a different life. Of course, being at the Manor was work, in whatever guise it took, she _was_ helping Lucius she could see that, and it was assisting her. It was giving her that valuable insight, she was learning from it, from Lucius and when she did return to both St Mungo’s and to Azkaban, even to Hogwarts she would use that valuable knowledge.

She watched enthralled and lost in her thoughts as the mass of damp hair slowly turned into the silky mane she had been so fascinated with since childhood. Who in a million years would ever have thought, that one day, the detestable, arrogant man, she had encountered in Flourish and Blotts. The much hated and much feared father of her old school nemesis, Draco Malfoy. The former Death Eater and close associate of Lord Voldemort, would be half naked on the rug in her small flat, having that captivating blonde hair dried like a child, by her……. It was certainly not a thought which would ever have entered Hermione’s mind, even as a reality she struggled with its actuality.

His hair was dry, rubbed lightly and methodically so, with a small white towel. The only magic involved were those exquisite fingers of hers, which came with a very special enchantment all of their own. Wherever and however they touched him they cast a spell upon the dark wizard like no other.

Hermione ran her slim fingers through the once more gossamer like tresses. They fell neatly and evenly down his back, and Hermione just allowed her fingers to drift back and forth through its soft silkiness. Her own feminine scented shampoo drifting to her nostrils, the warmth in the room accentuating its fresh floral, scent. It felt glorious, but it didn’t look quite as sleek as it usually did, and without thought, the young witch acciod a brush, pulling the bristles, from his crown to just below the hard plane of his shoulder blade until finally she was happy. But, her fingers just couldn’t resist, once more inexplicably drawn to those pale golden strands, coasting through his hair and letting it slip through her fingers, like grains of the finest sand.

One of those peculiar little thoughts suddenly occurred to Hermione; watching Lucius Malfoy slipping through her fingers ……...

“Are you hungry?” She asked suddenly, admiring her handiwork and pushing the unwelcome and unsettling thought from her mind.

 

 

 

 

 


	84. Blurred Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No summary just some intense conversation......

                                                                                                                                              

“I reacted rather foolishly before.”

There was a hint of the arrogance of old in his aristocratic tones.

Hermione had cleared away after dinner, even resorting to a little magic to help her put away plates and cutlery. After which, she had replenished their glasses with what little remained of the surprisingly good bottle of wine, and sat down on the sofa next to Lucius. She presumed they would return to Malfoy Manor at some point, but with Draco still away, there was no rush and it was actually quite nice to be in her own home, especially with him. He seemed remarkably at ease, relaxed even, in her small flat and having him here gave Hermione a bizarre thrill. There was another one of those odd unsolicited little thoughts rearing their head.

“I never had a problem with confined spaces before, and how ridiculous being in the shower …. I, it’s so …”

His frustration and irritation were evident, the words he struggled for and the explanation he sought, crowding his brain all at once, leaving him uncharacteristically tongue-tied. Hermione as always seemed to know exactly what he meant, what he was trying to say, even before the words had formulated in his head. He deluded himself with the idea that she knew and understood him that well, but in reality, he felt sure it was just the job she had been trained to do. However, the reassuring touch which came with it, was nothing to do with any training, no amount of teaching could instil that kind of response, it was natural, it was simply Hermione, the person she was. His grey eyes fell to where her slim hand rested in that same reassuring manner against his leg.

“Lucius, I spent less than 24 hours in your cell in Azkaban. It was tiny, claustrophobic.”

She could easily have gone on, but Lucius did not need a litany of reminders of his incarceration.

“I can fully understand why, after a year you would have such an aversion to confined spaces.”

Hermione’s capacity for empathy, and her refusal to allow him to demean himself in any way, never ceased to amaze Lucius. It always gave him the desire to want to confide so much more in her, confess even his inner most fears, no matter how silly they made him look, in his own eyes, or how trivial they might appear. Still trying to articulate himself properly, he voiced his own thoughts from earlier.

“It just seems so very stupid and weak, even to me; naked in the shower with a beautiful, sexy young woman and I am crippled by such a senseless memory. It was not the struggle I imagined having with my own body at such a time.”

His laughter was hollow and deprecating, Hermione remained silent as he spoke, her fingers tightening against his leg.

“I was determined not to let it defeat me. But…”

Hermione wanted to stop him, assure him that he really didn’t have to do this, she needed no further explanations, but in the depths of those expressive grey eyes and in his body language, she could see clearly, he did, so she allowed him to continue.

“Closing my eyes, I thought I could refocus my senses, concentrate only on the pleasure, and for a moment it worked. I appreciated everything, the refreshing water, the warmth and of course you. But when I opened my eyes again, all I could see and feel was that tiny space, it closed in on me, the warmth suddenly became stifling and I was breathing in my own fear.”

Lucius stopped himself short, confiding his hellish nightmares of Azkaban and Dementors to Hermione was one thing, telling her of such an idiotic fear, at such a time, sounded even more laughable to his own ears aloud, than it had done in his head at the time.

“As I said, it was stupid and weak. You must think me very foolish Hermione.”

He saw that familiar, feisty spark of defiance flicker in the depths of Hermione’s large brown eyes.

“I consider you neither stupid nor weak Lucius.” Her tone, although gentle, reflected that feisty defiance.

“People suffer from all manner of fears and phobias, spiders, dogs, heights, open spaces, all without any rhyme or reason. You have a very valid and understandable reason for fearing confined spaces. And as for _foolish,_ not at all.”

She paused briefly, if only to take a breath from her rhetoric.

“If anything, Lucius it’s entirely my fault, I am sorry I should have had more thought.”

There she was again, always ready to defend him, even in some very small way, something he was still astounded by, deep down he still felt he truly didn’t deserve it. Although in this case he had to admit, her logic was well founded, he would not however allow her to take any blame.”

“There are many adjectives I would use to describe you my dear, thoughtless is certainly not one of them.”

She felt a small flush creep across her cheeks at his compliment, well she assumed it was a compliment, he hadn’t elaborated on the other adjectives. As if he had used legilimency, he did precisely that.

“Clever, caring, understanding, forgiving, and those are just a few of the professionally related ones.”

Hermione couldn’t withhold a smile, Lucius was very good. Since their conversation about her sleeping in his bed, and her not wishing to cloud or compromise her professional judgement, he would remind her of it in some way, not letting her forget that he was aware of it. Sometimes he would do it at the most inopportune moments, but none the less he knew it was important to her.  She of course couldn’t resist asking the question.

“And what about the nonprofessional ones?”

The smile was gone, but her brown eyes twinkled, she kept her face perfectly straight and completely serious waiting for the dark wizard to respond.

Lucius viewed her carefully, he knew she was baiting him, possibly even having a little fun with him, but after everything that had been said and done, his own response was just as important to him.

“Even personally speaking, all of the above, only more so. In addition, feisty, beautiful, determined, sexy, patient.”

He watched the tiny hue of colour which stung Hermione’s high cheek bones increase.  He also found curiosity invading his own body.

“What about me?” He ventured, lifting his wine glass to his lips.

Hermione had the strangest feeling the question was going to be thrown back at her, her sharp mind already racing a step ahead. Honesty as always paramount in her responses to Lucius.

“Intimidating, striking, intellectual, sexy, impatient.”

There was the sound of laughter again, genuine this time, before Lucius became serious once more. She also knew what was coming next.

“And professionally how would you describe me?”

Those now piercing blue grey eyes of his were fixed firmly upon her. His mouth set in a thin line, this time she could tell he was demanding honesty from her and she would only give him that. Her brain raced harder and faster as she carefully, quite literally chose the words she was looking for.

“Angry… scared… traumatised…optimistic…reformed.”  

She watched a gamut of emotions flicker across Lucius face, as she uttered each one, and she saw every one of them reflected in his eyes as the spoke. There were many more she could have used, but she thought this was quite enough for him to process for now. His silence unnerved her, until finally he spoke, slowly and deliberately.

“Not so very long ago, I would have hexed anyone for using some of those words, including you, even my own son. But now I realise, **you** have made me realise, that anger, fear and hurt, amongst many other things, quite possibly which you have respectfully not mentioned, are the reason behind that very reaction.”

Hermione smiled, it was an incredibly fine line she trod with Lucius when it came to his admitting certain things, his state of mind being an even thinner one. But when he did admit to things, it was rarely a small step he took, it was more often a surprisingly giant leap. It was as if there was never anything in the middle for him. It was what her father used to call, a grey area. Lucius Malfoy clearly didn’t do grey, it was quite simply black or it was white.  She didn’t dwell on his admission, only on the very positive leap he had just taken.

“ _Not so very long ago_.” There was that blonde brow rising at her verbatim quotation.

“You asked me to help you, something else you would _never_ have done before. Reformed and optimistic.”

She reiterated, purposely focusing on the two words he had omitted.

“Reformation and optimism are what has made you realise Lucius, not me. I don’t think you necessarily need my help as such, you just need to be able to talk to someone, someone who will encourage you and listen to you. Sometimes that truly is all the help a person needs.”

Again, there was perfect logic in what she said, this time however, Lucius was not going to let her brush aside the part she had played, what she had already given him, done for him.

“NO!”

His voice was emphatic and much harsher than he had anticipated, he noticed a little anxiety creep into Hermione’s face, immediately he covered the hand resting against his leg with his own.

 “No, Hermione it was, it is you, you have helped me see those things, realise what they are. Your wisdom, caring, understanding, and forgiveness have given me optimism. Your feistiness, beauty, determination, and patience all wrapped up in such a very sexy young woman, give me the will to continue with my _reformation_ as you put it _._ ”

Hermione fought the tears which threatened to fall at his earnest words, her eyes fell to where his hand now covered hers. But his other hand came up to her chin, tilting her head back making her look directly at him, there was no hiding her emotions from him.

“You may not think you are helping me, but you are, a little ironic really, when you came to the Manor for my help.” His smile was gentle and genuine.

“You have already helped me, more than you could possibly know. I might still be a lot of things, but I will always be honest with you Hermione.”

Hermione didn’t doubt his honesty for one moment, since their first meeting at the Aurelia Imperial, he had been nothing but truthful with her.

“The strange thing is I doubt I would have responded to anyone else, the way I have to you, bizarre when you consider our history. ”

This time Hermione didn’t argue or protest his bringing up the past, frankly she couldn’t refute his words. She would be the first to admit, or in this case the second, she would never have imagined Lucius Malfoy talking to her in this manner, let alone reacting to her as he had done, or vice versa come to that. Silently she continued to listen to what he obviously needed to say.

“You are right, about having someone there, I understand that now.”

A hint of sadness laced his voice.

“But just as I would not have responded to someone else the way I have to you, I also very much doubt anyone else would have wanted to take the time and listen to me.”

Lucius knew that no one else, his wife of so many years included, would have ever listened to him in this way, let alone understood.

 “Talking to you, having you listen to me and encourage me, whatever the situation.”

His eyes twinkled as they held hers.

“I cannot put my finger on it, but even when we talk about the darkest of things, the way you listen, your words or your actions of reassurance, they make me see things I never saw before, I feel different, I feel better.”

He shrugged his shoulders, clearly not totally comprehending everything, just knowing that whatever it was, he did feel better.

“What you did for me today alone, what you _said_ …. _all of it_ ”

Hermione didn’t think he was going to particularise but he did.

“From going to the trouble of arranging the meeting in the first place, what you said to Rita Skeeter, you didn’t have to do any of that. It went beyond, listening and encouragement.”

He paused briefly as if to steel himself for what came next.

“To asking me to fuck you. Everything _helped_ in its own way _,_ it all made me feel very different, and so much stronger. As if somehow, I was a real person again.”

His repeating those words did not embarrass Hermione, not in that sense anyway, at this moment he was simply elucidating, recounting.

“I am sure you can explain it, but I cannot and in all honesty, I am not sure that I want to. I don’t care, I just like how I felt, how I feel now, how you always make me feel. I don’t want that to go away.”

Heat returned to her face, sending a blush across her cheeks, her eyes brimming once more with the threat of tears, and Lucius thought he was the one being foolish. Coming from anyone else, Hermione might have been tempted to laugh, make light of it, brush his flowery words off with a flippant quip, but not with this man. At their lunch in the small Muggle restaurant some weeks ago, he had poo pooed her, when she had spoken of his _courage._ But knowing what she did now, she knew, to say what he had to her in this way, had taken an awful lot of courage on Lucius Malfoy’s part.

This time, he was right; professionally she could explain what he was feeling, and why. Her brain once more split in two, worried that he may be confusing his feelings in some way, the gratitude and relief he was feeling, leading him to believe it was maybe something else. The odd thing was, she was in the same boat. She had gotten to know Lucius Malfoy very well, and most of the time could read him quite accurately, but in this instance, it was much more difficult. This conversation had sprung from nowhere, borne on the back of a rather surreal day, some unforeseen encounters, in more ways than one. A fear, an unpleasant memory, perhaps the wine……. she certainly didn’t want read more into it than perhaps he actually meant.

Of course, professionally she was delighted, that she had helped someone in this way. Personally however, the other very feminine half of her brain, like him, didn’t care, well actually she did, far more than she should, or than she would admit, especially to Lucius. She was insanely happy Lucius felt like a real person again, that he liked how she _always_ made him feel, that she made him feel _very different and so much better._ She loved that he didn’t want _it_ to go away.

As the dark wizard pulled the young witch onto his lap and into his arms. The “I don’t want **_you_** to go away” that whipped around in his head remained unsaid, remained yet another foolish folly on his part, another delusion that she might in some way feel the same.

Hermione Granger was a very intelligent young woman, who had found herself in some terrifying situations, had put herself in some even more terrifying situations. However, the former Death Eater did not want to frighten her in other ways, perhaps frighten was putting it a little strongly, but he did not want to put her in a situation she would not be comfortable with, find frightening in its own way. Her adjective summation of him had been very accurate, especially the scared part. Quite possibly not for the reasons she assumed.

 Lucius had told, no he had chided himself many times over the last few days, Hermione agreeing to sleep in his bed, with him, was just that, nothing more, and he had to accept it.  They were both adults, there was no reason why they could not enjoy the time they were spending together in a very adult way. They were both enjoying what they were doing, what was _happening,_ that too in its way was helping Lucius, something which they were both very much aware of, but it was nothing more. Lucius had in turn agreed he would not let it get in the way of her professionalism or the job she had come to the Manor to do. Whatever his feelings were now. he would not go back on that promise to Hermione.

They had crossed so many boundaries, in many different ways, but Lucius found the lines they had drawn between professional and personal, for him at least were now very blurred, were almost one, were almost invisible.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My continued thanks for comments and kudos, and my usual apologies for anything you might find.....:-)


	85. Fighting Corners And Rubbing Ears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As they used to say in cheap romance novels....the following morning......

 

Hermione woke in her own bed, in her own flat, it was the first time she had ever woken in her own home and felt completely disorientated. She had spent her childhood, mostly away at school and quite a bit of her adult life, in various places due to her work, but despite those places, some not so pleasant, she had never woken with this odd feeling of not knowing where she was, or why she was here. Panic rose in her throat, an unpleasant feeling of heat coursed through her body. Had she just had the most vivid dream, nightmare even, that she’d ever had? Was her encounter with Draco and Lucius Malfoy, something her mind had conjured up?

The answer was yes, it had to be, otherwise she would have woken in the surprisingly more familiar surroundings of Malfoy Manor, in Lucius Malfoy’s bed. Oh Merlin, just where had sleep taken her? She looked ridiculously and hopefully at the rumpled empty space next to her, what, or who on earth was she expecting to see, a naked Lucius Malfoy? Another rush of heat coursed through her body, but this one much more pleasant.

“Good morning.”

A soothingly dark and thankfully familiar voice came from the doorway.

How bizarre was it that she should think like that, and that she should find the looming presence of a former Death Eater, so relieving? That aside, what struck the young witch as even more bizarre was that same former Death Eater looked, unnervingly handsome and incredibly relaxed standing in the doorway to her bedroom, and was unbelievably, holding two mugs of steaming, something….

“Good morning yourself.” Hermione couldn’t resist voicing her own thoughts, keeping quiet about the relief which had flooded her at his presence.

“I am not sure which is more disconcerting, finding you loitering in the doorway of my bedroom, or that you come bearing freshly made, coffee or tea perhaps.”

There was the briefest hint of effrontery on his face, which lapsed into a deprecating smile.

“Personally, I would go with the tea.”

He took a step into the room.

“You don’t have house elves, so I had to make it myself. The only things I can safely attest to are, it is very hot and quite wet.”

He raised a blonde brow at the look which drifted across Hermione’s face. The smile which tugged at her, very kissable mouth, suggested she was not thinking about the poor excuse for tea he had just _made._ He perched on the side of the bed, watching entranced as she sat up, adjusting the pillows behind her, and delightfully, modestly keeping the sheet against her pale skin, he almost reluctantly handed her the steaming mug, watching just as intently as she took a sip.

“It really doesn’t matter how it tastes Lucius, it is the fact that you made it which counts. But actually, it’s lovely, thank you.”

The brew was a little stronger than she usually liked, but it was perfectly recognisable as tea, and it was very hot and definitely wet. But in Lucius Malfoy’s hands she knew exactly how that felt.

Other than a potion or two in his Hogwarts days, Lucius had never made anything, well save an alcoholic drink, and that usually only involved adding some ice to his Firewhiskey. When he had woken up in the night in need of the bathroom, he had been overwhelmed by a very strange sense of wellbeing. Everything about Hermione’s home was small, well compared to Malfoy Manor that was, the way he was at the moment, he should have felt panicked, scared even, especially after the incident in the shower, but he didn’t. He didn’t even wonder where he was or what he was doing here, there wasn’t an iota of trepidation in his body. Surprisingly without the aid of a lumos, he had found his way easily back to the small tiled room. The merest chink of light from outside had streamed in through the circular window, lighting the space itself. As he’d relieved himself, he had glanced around, his eyes falling on the cubicle which had unsettled him so much earlier, now feeling even more foolish than he had done then.  But there was something else, an inexplicable sense of achievement, most odd in the middle of the night, and at such a moment, but it was there none the less, as if he had surmounted another obstacle. Completely naked and comfortable in what no longer seemed like strange surroundings he had returned to the bedroom, Hermione Granger’s bedroom, in her home. With his eyes still half closed in sleep, Lucius had felt sure he was dreaming. Happy that it wasn’t a nightmare infested with Dementors he had slipped quickly and quietly back into the warm bed, moving closer to the sleeping form already there. That delightful sense of wellbeing still engulfed him when he had once again awoken, next to that same sleeping form, this time into the light of day. It had lifted him from the bed, and towards the kitchen, with it’s never ending supply of fascinating muggle gadgets.  He had watched Hermione make coffee the previous evening, but knew from their mornings shared together at the Manor, that she preferred tea. “Coffee only being an after dinner indulgence.” She had told him.

A red light had illuminated on the large white jug he had just filled with water. It bubbled away, the noise getting louder as he had removed mugs from the stone tree on the counter top. He had opened several cupboards before he had remembered which was the one shrouded in cooling charms and removed the milk. He then added it to the cups, recalling Hermione always put milk in before she did anything else. One of the pots on the same counter top announced happily that it housed “Tea” and he removed a couple of the little triangular shaped bags, putting them into the prepared mugs. The large white jug clicked, the red light went off and the frantic bubbling ceased, at which point he decanted the boiling water onto the little paper bags containing the tea leaves. Quite fascinating. Searching around in draws this time, he found the cutlery and a spoon, which he used to swish the bags around with until the liquid in the cup resembled tea. Happy with yet another achievement, Lucius Malfoy had returned to Hermione Granger’s bedroom.  How could this simple task, well simple for most, and for him now he knew how, bring him so much pleasure? The dark wizard suddenly realised, the boundless joy at something so mundane and so trivial, came from seeing the pleasure in her face.

“What are you thinking about?”

Hermione suddenly asked, noticing Lucius gaze was still firmly fixed on her, a hint of a rather silly smile lifting his incredibly sensual mouth. She drew her own gaze away from it, lifting her mug to her lips as she waited for an answer.

“I am not sure if I should go with the serious or the silly.”

There was that unrelenting honesty again, Lucius found it impossible to contain with Hermione.

“Why not both.” The young witch suggested.

“Start with the silly, it’s too early to be too serious.

She glanced at the clock on her cabinet at the side of her bed, Merlin’s beard it was 9am that was like the middle of the day for her, she hadn’t slept this late in forever.

“You might think me a little self-indulgent, but I was congratulating myself on mastering your gadgets in the kitchen, making a reasonably passable cup of tea and enjoying the look on your face.”

That all seemed rather serious to Hermione, she couldn’t wait to hear Lucius definition of that word.

“I don’t think any of that is silly, save perhaps the look on my face. Finding your way around a strange kitchen is no small feat, trust me I know and making something for the first time can be quite daunting. Been there too, sandwiches and tea at Malfoy Manor, terrifying!”

As always, she refused to let him put himself down in anyway. Even when it came to switching on a kettle or making a cup of tea for the first time.

“So, what’s the serious bit?” She encouraged.

The grip he had on the mug tightened, much like it did around his wand, when he was apprehensive about saying something, a little tension ebbing into him.

“Perhaps you might consider this silly also, but I woke up in the night and needed to use the bathroom.”

“No……. that wasn’t what you might consider silly.”

He couldn’t withhold a small laugh at the look on her face, shaking his head at her mockery, and her twitching lips, his body immediately relaxing.

“The last week has been to say the least, surreal at times, but yesterday and today even more so. But I had this odd sense of wellbeing, that I had achieved something. Making the tea aside.”

Even at 9am, when she had only been awake for a short time, it really was a tad too early for such profound conversation. It was in some ways as if they were picking up where they had left off the previous evening. Hermione didn’t want to say anything she would not necessarily regret, but that perhaps she might reveal too much. She gathered her wits, keeping her response lighter than she would normally at such a revelation from Lucius.

“The tea is perfect and much appreciated.  I had a similar sense when I saw you standing there with it.”

She cut her words short, thinking it was inappropriate to tell Lucius just _how_ much “wellbeing” she had felt, seeing him standing there with his freshy brewed tea. Having Lucius Malfoy spend the night in her flat, was really going way beyond the realms of any professionalism whatsoever, but she had to maintain a modicum of it, even if it was just to try and keep her balance, or from seeing or wanting anything more.

“No achievement should ever be ridiculed, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem. And I think you have certainly achieved more than just the mastery of the teabag in the last week or so. Far more than you give yourself credit for.”

So much for too profound at such an _early hour._ Although he did not comment on her words, his smile and the oh so tiny flush which bit into the flesh on his cheeks, was joyous, and spoke volumes.  Hermione decided to stick with the lighter hearted.

“I have to agree with you on the surreal front though. Having Lucius Malfoy in my flat is one thing, having him _serve_ me tea in bed, even my imagination cannot comprehend that kind of surrealty.”

 

Spending the last day or so with Hermione in this very different way, and at the moment in this very different world, had made Lucius feel as if they were encased in some kind of protego spell, her mere presence shielding him, protecting him even from everything and everyone around them. But just as before the dark wizard realised it wasn’t her presence that shielded or protected him, although knowing her as he did now, he felt sorry for anyone who tried to pit themselves against her. It was quite simply the way she made him feel, the courage, there was that word again. The courage that she gave him, simply by standing at his side, what was that muggle expression she had used before…...by _fighting his corner._ She wasn’t really even fighting, she was just quietly, firmly and logically championing him, and without a second thought. It was strange that as they returned to Malfoy Manor, to his home, the dark wizard felt as if he were stepping back into a harsh reality, a reality which despite its own protective wards, left him far more exposed.  Whatever achievements he’d attained, whatever obstacles he had surmounted so far. Lucius knew there were a lot more ahead of him and they had nothing to do with ensuring that Hermione Granger did not leave Malfoy Manor, or himself.

 

Hermione was holding yet another cup of tea when she came under further Malfoy scrutiny a little while later. This however was from the younger one.

“Hey Granger.”

Not expecting him back quite so soon, or indeed full of such exuberance, she almost dropped the cup on the stone floor.

“Draco! You nearly scared me to death.”

The young man looked a little sheepish at his obviously unexpected and boisterous arrival.

“Sorry, I thought I said I would be back about lunch time.”

“You did, but like you handwriting Draco, time keeping has never been a strong point with you.”

She mopped up the tea which had spilled from the mug, in truth she hadn’t actually realised it was lunchtime already. The later than usual start, and that start being in her flat had thrown her off somewhat.

Draco flopped into one of the Windsor chairs, screwing his nose up at Hermione. The few days away had done him good, he seemed as relaxed as his father had done earlier, and in particularly good spirits.

“Is that for me?” He asked hopefully, looking at the mug which Hermione was still holding.

She shook her head at his cheek, passing him the cup and making another for herself.

“It’s weird you know.”

Hermione turned to look at Draco Malfoy, she had become quite adept at reading both him and his father, but she wasn’t a legilimens so reading their minds was not something she could do. She held her hand out to Draco, waiting expectantly for an elaboration of the weirdness to which he eluded.

“Seeing you here like this.”

Hermione didn’t detect any malice in his words, but it didn’t stop a little flush of embarrassed heat creep into her skin. She remained silent hoping Draco was going to elaborate yet further, his point still unclear. If of course there was one, with Draco she could never be entirely certain.

“I’d never have expected to see you here again, at one time…...”

His voice went a little quieter and a flush of its own lit his pale skin.

“I wouldn’t have wanted to see you here, but well, I am glad you are. Even before I went, my father seemed, I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve ever known him to be truly happy, but he seemed different. Whatever you are doing or saying, it’s working.”

The little flush of embarrassed heat developed into a full blown blush and Hermione was grateful for the dimness of the Manor kitchen. Compliments from Draco was enough to contend with, his choice of words, a hippogriff of a very different colour. She drew a chair at the other side of the table and sat down with Lucius’s son.

“I am not sure I can take that much credit really Draco. For some reason your father, finds me easy to talk to, my ruse for being here and the actual reason seem to have fallen into place and are overlapping quite nicely.”

“Well whatever Granger, thanks. Even if my father doesn’t appreciate it I do.”

Hermione was a little peeved at Draco’s remark, although if Lucius did know she was here at his son’s request he might not be so appreciative or feel the same way as he did. She tried not to think about that. Assuring herself that she was combining the two, and maybe even a third element. She pushed everything to the back of her mind, and into that ever mounting pile of things to think about and deal with later. The space was fast filling up.

A contented snore came from behind the young blonde, turning he saw Kauno and Isa, stretched out in what had become their usual positions in front of the Aga. The surprise on his face was evident.

Hermione had been affectionately greeted when she had entered the kitchen, Lucius having gone upstairs to change from his travelling clothes of yesterday. At least being in her own home, Hermione had had the luxury of fresh clothes.  Since they had gone back to sleep, Hermione had paid them little attention, forgetting about Narcissa’s rule about them not being allowed into the house.

“Salazar’s shirt!”

Hermione all but jumped once again at Draco’s unexpected exclamation, tea spilling this time onto the wooden table.

“Draco stop doing that. Now what?”

“The dogs.”

Hermione was about to mutter something sarcastic at Draco’s very obvious statement, when she realised the reason for his surprise. She thought he’d seen them in the house, but he’d been in an out over the last week or so, so clearly, he hadn’t. Their presence apparently, a shock to the young wizard. Hermione hoped he didn’t share his mother’s beliefs that they should remain outside, she was hardly in a position to argue with him, and Lucius hadn’t yet returned. Although she doubted Draco would go against his father’s wishes.  Apparently, it wasn’t so much the dogs being in the kitchen which shocked Lucius’ son.

“Wow, Granger now I am seriously impressed.”

Hermione was now totally confused. Draco had gone from boyish exuberance to riddles in the wave of a wand.

“Winning my father over, that’s something. But, he’s a man after all, and well…. You’re an attractive, smart woman, I get that.”

The gentle flush on Draco’s face also increased, at his own observation. As did the blush on Hermione’s face, heat scorching her cheeks. But Draco continued, seemingly oblivious and with something much more significant on his mind.

 “But, winning THOSE two over, that is SERIOUSLY IMPRESSIVE.”

Hermione inclined her head towards the stove, her eyes dropping to the two sleeping hounds. Since that initial fuss on her return, she really hadn’t given their presence in the kitchen another thought. She was used to them being around, if Lucius wasn’t in a room, they were quite happy with her, and would even walk the grounds with her. Their silky soft heads even rose to the sound of Hermione’s voice, they came when she called them, and were even more delighted if she were in charge of the food. She always gave them a little extra.  

She couldn’t help but smile at the wide eyed look of disbelief on Draco’s face, or that he found it easier to accept that she had won his father over, than his dogs.  Actually, there was very little difference in how she had won all three of them over.

“It was a very similar process actually, a soft kind word and the odd reassuring touch.”

The heat in Hermione’s face reached boiling point as she realised not only had she had said the words aloud, but to Draco Malfoy, their connotations and repercussions endless.

Draco’s sudden burst of laughter, was another totally unexpected reaction, so much so, Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps his dinner party the previous evening had left him still a little under the influence of alcohol. It would certainly explain a lot, especially his uncharacteristic response.  There was no other explanation for it, other than maybe he was genuinely relieved, happy even that his father was “different”.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to laugh, or sound like I was poking fun at you.”

Nope he was definitely under the influence of something, once upon a time that was all Draco Malfoy ever did to Hermione Granger, and as for an apology, that was unheard of.

“It’s been so long, since I had some real fun, just been me, I’d forgotten what that was like.”

He looked imploringly at Hermione.

“After all the stuff that happened last week, I wanted to forget about it. It really felt good, I don’t want to let go of that feeling …….”

He stopped abruptly, looking a little shamefaced.

He was so much like Lucius, his words so reminiscent of his father’s the previous day. The young wizard’s voice trailed off guiltily, but Hermione didn’t reproach him, just grateful that he wasn’t picking over her own impromptu statement.

“I know it’s selfish, but then you wouldn’t expect anything else from me, it was good to relax and not have to worry about my father.”

Hermione had seen this side of the young blonde before, immediately her heart went out to him. Just like Lucius, Draco needed someone to talk to, someone to listen and someone to encourage him, but he was none the less quite right.

 “Once upon a time Draco I would have said yes. You never thought about anyone except yourself, actually you were quite possibly the most selfish person I knew.”

Hermione saw a little spark of the old Draco, but it was a very small spark and she knew now it only flared because he knew she spoke the truth, she went on quickly.

“But a self-centred person would never have asked for help, or thought about your father the way you have. And needing time to yourself, for yourself isn’t selfish at all. We all need a little escape, and outlet for our feelings from time to time.”

Draco seemed to appreciate Hermione’s words.

“I know this is going to sound totally crazy after what has happened before with us and everything, but I knew my father was in safe hands.”

In a way, it did sound, as Draco put, it totally crazy, but then Draco would have hardly asked for her help if he thought her hands were anything but safe. She pushed an unbridled image of Lucius in her hands, out of her mind.

Draco’s blue eyes fell upon his almost empty cup.

“I guess my brain is still in fun mode from the weekend. I need to get back to reality, when you said a _soft word and reassuring touch.”_

Oh, crap he was going to pick over her words, the heat returned and this time it was Hermione’s brown eyes which fell up the delicate china on the table.

“My childish mind imagined, you saying good boy and rubbing behind his ears.”

Draco looked up awkwardly, his own pale face flushed. His shameful red face and blue eyes, met Hermione’s shocked red face and brown eyes. The image he had conjured, brought a smile to Hermione’s lips, a smile which spread into a grin and then into an out and out laugh, mirrored by her companion, the two laughed heartily over the picture the younger Malfoy had mentally painted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks as always for continued support of this rather epic tale, unheard of from me! Apologies etc etc etc and I hope you enjoyed this chapter


	86. Skating on Thin Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those of you looking forward to Draco's return your wait is over......some intense conversation and revelations to come.

 

 

The surrealty of Lucius Malfoy loitering in her bedroom doorway, and serving her tea in bed was replaced with another similarly unreal situation. His son, drinking the same beverage with her, this time in the kitchen of Malfoy Manor, whilst sharing a joke and some hearty laughter. The strange thing was, neither seemed remotely out of place and neither seemed awkward in any way.

Other than discussing Lucius, she and Draco never really talked to each other, as their laughter subsided, Hermione decided it was time to rectify that, starting with a little polite chit chat.

“So, I am guessing you had a good weekend then?”

Surprisingly the deep flush which had coloured Draco’s pale face remained firmly in place, maybe the _polite chit chat,_ wasn’t exactly that after all.

“Yeah it was great.”

Hermione noticed the flush on his cheeks deepen as he spoke.

“There were some people there I knew from _before_ , and some I didn’t.”

Draco appeared to be trying to play it down, and Hermione suddenly wished she knew him better, then she could ask him all the nosy, girlish questions she wanted to, silently admonishing herself for slipping into Ginny Weasley mode.

“Thanks Granger.”

Draco’s unexpected expression of gratitude caught her off guard, having no idea what he was in fact thanking her for. The surprise and bewilderment must have been obvious in her face as even Draco picked up on them.

“I wasn’t going to go, father insisted, but if you hadn’t been here, I couldn’t have gone, and if I had, I would’ve just been worrying if everything was ok, if my father was drinking…...or”

Hermione instinctively reached across the table touching Draco’s hand in one of those easy reassuring gestures.

“You asked for my help Draco, it takes many forms.”

The younger Malfoy smiled at the fingers which softly brushed across his own, a little flicker of amusement pushing through the seriousness of his words, was she going to rub behind his ears next too. 

How things had changed. He really wasn’t sure what had prompted him to go against everything he had once believed and enlist Hermione Granger’s help, but now, he really didn’t care, he was just thankful that he had, and was even more grateful that she had agreed.

“Yeah, I know, but well, you know…”

Handwriting, timekeeping and articulacy, whilst Draco had an awful lot in common with his father, when it came to other things they were poles apart. But yes, in truth she did _know_ , and was happy to accept his thanks.

“I do, and I am really glad you had a good time. We all need some fun, to blow off steam and let our hair down now and again.”

His smile was genuine, he still felt a little guilty though, as it suddenly dawned on him, that in helping him and his father, staying at the Manor as she was, Hermione had given up her friends, her social life, and even her own home.

“But what about you Granger? Staying at the Manor like this, you cannot be having any fun or letting your hair down.”

Hermione fought to keep the colour in her own face under control.

“Well that would depend on your definition of fun and how you let your hair down”

She should have chosen her words more carefully, noticing Draco’s brow arch, it wasn’t in the same league as his father’s but give it a year or so. She noticed that little red hue return to his cheeks once more.

“Well I’m sure ours are very different, but I cannot see my father being any fun, and I doubt you blow off steam by kicking the dogs or the house elves.”

Hermione had to admit, Draco had an odd sense of humour, but she couldn’t help but laugh at yet another picture he painted.

 “That’s very true Draco, but in all seriousness, I haven’t had to contend with what you have for the last few months. And compared to spending time at Azkaban or chatting to some of the patients at St Mungo’s, talking to your father and spending time here is…. much more pleasant.”

That didn’t come out quite as she had intended, in fact it sounded quite rude, however, it seemed to go completely over Draco’s head.

“Yeah if you say so.” His expression was nothing short of priceless.

“You’re right, our definitions of fun and blowing of steam are VERY different. But this must be really slow and boring for you Granger, after everything that you have done.”

Hermione’s own expression was caught somewhere between a frown and a smile.”

“Perhaps a slightly different pace to what I am used, yes, but slow and boring, definitely not.”

She looked at Lucius’ son, not sure what he was eluding to, but with the usual reassurance in her face.

“But then I can’t say I would want to spend my days waring with Voldemort or facing off against your mother.”

She watched Draco carefully, not wanting to push him quite as hard as she did his father.

“Whether I am St Mungo’s, Azkaban or here, it is sometimes slower than I expect. It can be repetitive though, I find often myself going over the same ground endlessly, feeling like I am going around in circles, and not getting anywhere, but that’s just part of what I do. So yes, I suppose to some it would seem slow, but honestly I am never bored”

“That must drive you crazy.” Draco grimaced.

“Sorry poor choice of word.”

Hermione brushed his comment aside with a wave of her hand, she knew exactly what he meant.

“It’s fine Draco, calling me crazy is okay, just not the people I work with.

Their eyes met, he’d made that mistake before.

“Actually, you’re quite right, but to be honest, it’s more frustrating than anything else.”

This wasn’t the way she had seen this conversation going at all, Hermione had intended on finding out more about Draco, about his weekend, and here she was talking about herself. He had however been the one to raise the point and seemed to be listening intently, waiting for her to continue. 

“Sometimes you want to move things along, because you know, as an outsider, the person you are talking to, is more than ready, but they don’t see it, so you can’t t force it.”

“You must want to.” Draco volunteered, finding himself inexplicably fascinated.

“Of course, but as you know, that can just make things worse.  So, frustrating as it might be, or crazy as it might make you, you just have to go at that person’s pace, and if that means going over and over and over the same things, then so be it.  If I didn’t have the patience for the slow-paced repetition then I should have chosen a very different career path.”

 “I have to admit Granger, I thought you might have done something more exciting or challenging. You must have had your pick of things to do.”

Hermione gave Draco another indulgent smile, her brows raised just a tad

“Hmm, well I would say the human mind is quite a challenge, your father’s maybe more than most.  As for exciting, standing up to your mother in her own home, that’s excitement enough for me these days, thank you very much.”

Thankfully Draco laughed.

“And as I said, everything here really is just the same as at the other places I work. _.”_

She could see him still looking a trifle unconvinced.

“When I came here Draco, I wasn’t expecting my days to fast paced and bursting with excitement, what I do doesn’t work like that, and in truth I find talking to your father quite stimulating.”

Hermione found one of those little flushes start to creep through her body, conversation wasn’t the only thing she found stimulating about Lucius Malfoy.  She saw a little flicker of cynicism in his son’s blue eyes. They probably had very different interpretations of that too, although maybe not so much. The flush crept further into her body.

“For me professionally, it is. Of course, we often go over and over things, just like anyone I am working with, and your father dictates the speed.” The flush surged even more.

“Sometimes we’re overtaken by several snails, another day we could catch the golden snitch.”

Draco found himself laughing once more at Hermione’s analogy. He envied her patience amongst the list of other things, and with her gentle and amusing analogies, did find himself reassured that she was not bored or missing the faster pace of her normal working day or her normal life.

“When I took this job, not coming here, but when Kingsley asked me to help the wizarding community with my skills. I told him my plan was to spend several weeks at a time based in one location. I didn’t want to feel rushed or for the people I was working with to feel that I didn’t have time to sit and listen to them, that applies to your father too.”

She gave him a cheeky, knowing look.

“And believe it or not I don’t get bored talking to you either.”

Draco now wore that look, caught somewhere between a frown and a smile, almost turning into a Malfoy sneer.

“Thanks!” He said flatly, his face finally cracking back into a smile, before once again becoming serious.

“I guess maybe I am just worried that you’ll get fed up and just leave us to it.”

The surging flush, turned into a surge of anger at Draco.

“Draco, I hope that even you know me better than that. You asked for my help, I would never go back a promise like that, personally or professionally. I wouldn’t simply abandon you or your father.”

She fought back her anger knowing his concerns came from a good place.

“My work can be unexciting and very repetitive. A bit like now going over and over the same thing with someone, to reassure them, _convince_ them of something.”

This time it was Draco’s cheeks which coloured, knowing he had been badgering Hermione. The look in her brown eyes and her gentle smile telling him it was alright though, she understood. She really was very good at what she did.

“Whatever and however long it takes Draco. Every day might not appear action packed, but trust me, it has its own share of excitement for my professional mind.”

And my personal body she added silently and talking of excitement……

“Anyway, talk about going off at a tangent, we weren’t talking about me, or were you trying to distract me?”

Draco looked even more sheepish.

“Come on tell me, what did you do this weekend that was so much fun, and blew of enough steam to power the Hogwart’s express.”

She watched with delight as the little crimson hue returned with vengeance to Draco’s pale features, and he shifted in his seat, toying aimlessly with his now empty cup.

“You cannot say anything to my father.”

Hermione was stunned, truthfully, she had just been teasing Draco. She really had no intention of prying into what he had got up to at the weekend, it was his business, she was just glad he’d had a good time, feeling, after everything, he certainly deserved it. Never in a million years did she expect him to volunteer anything, let alone be quite so forthcoming. Her feminine curiosity was not about to let it go by.

“Of course not Draco, your trust is as important as your father’s, I would never betray it.”

Her words were perhaps a little forceful, but the younger Malfoy, did not know her as his father did. It would be only natural that he would think her loyalty lay with Lucius.

“Astoria Greengrass was there.”

Draco said this as if it was supposed to mean something to Hermione, she racked her brain, the name was vaguely familiar, but she honestly couldn’t put a face to it.

Draco seemed a little disappointed at Hermione’s lack of recollection, trying to jog her memory.

“You must remember her from school, her sister was in our year, she was in Slytherin with me, Astoria was a couple of years younger.”

Hermione shook her head, despite Draco’s prompts she was none the wiser. Maybe it would have been better to have said she remembered the young woman, even if she didn’t, but that could easily backfire on her.

“Sorry Draco I honestly don’t remember Astoria or her sister.”

Draco shrugged his shoulders, clearly more than a little dejected. Urgh some things about the young blonde didn’t change at all, his petulance, he predilection for sulking.

“I didn’t know everyone at school Draco!” She said, injecting some self-deprecating humour into her tone of voice.

“But she obviously made quite an impression on you.”

She saw a spark in those blue eyes at her choice of words, they met hers across the table.

“We were together for a while, after the war.” He offered quietly, his blue eyes tinged with regret.

“But my mother and father didn’t like her very much, they didn’t think she was good enough for me.”

Ah so this was the reason why Draco didn’t want Lucius to know that he had seen her. Keen to keep Draco talking about himself, Hermione went with her usual empathy, even if this time it was based only loosely on fact.

“No girlfriend or boyfriend is _ever_ good enough for parents. I can imagine how mine would have reacted to Ronald.”

At this particular analogy, Draco’s face was caught somewhere between a smile and screwing up his nose, turning it into a rather apt scowl.  Something in his brain didn’t quite comprehend why her parents hadn’t reacted to her involvement with Weasley, but he was too wrapped up in his own strange actions and thoughts to question it.

It was odd talking to her like this, she was a girl, a woman, but he didn’t have a best friend, not anymore, and he had no one else he could talk to. If his father could do it, then perhaps he could too. Maybe he could think of her as a friend, that seemed even more bizarre than talking to her as a girl. But at least being female, she might understand, maybe even give him a little guidance when it came to the working of a woman’s mind.

 “She never felt comfortable coming here before, and I didn’t blame her, she wasn’t really made welcome. Then my father…. well, you know that bit of the story. Rather than upset my parents or make things worse, we stopped seeing each other.”

Hermione was a little surprised that someone as cunning and devious as Draco Malfoy had always been, could not have continued seeing this girl, without his parents’ knowledge, but perhaps he didn’t want to go against their wishes, she could understand that.

“And now?” She asked carefully, still not wanting to pry, but getting the distinct feeling Draco actually wanted to talk.

The young wizard could see why his father had so readily agreed to talk to Hermione, she made it very easy. The strangeness he’d felt, began to give way to a peculiar sense of relief.

 “Err well, we kinda picked up where we left off.”

The flush was back on Draco’s cheeks and he looked away from Hermione, his gaze falling to the sleeping dogs.

She ignored his discomfort, recognising that masculine awkwardness at discussing certain subjects only too well. Girls didn’t seem to have that issue at all, she withheld her smile at the thought, talking to Draco as if he were just Ginny or Luna.

“That’s great, isn’t it? Or am I missing something?”

Hermione still trod very cautiously, she was happy to chat to Draco in this way, it was actually nice, fun even, but just like with his father, if not more so, she didn’t want to overstep any boundaries.

“It was great…. All of it.”

The cheeky school boyish admission, coloured his pale face even further and he shifted uncomfortably once more.

“But…...?” Hermione ventured slowly, suppressing an overwhelming desire to shake him.

“But Lucius Malfoy is still my father.”

His words came out all of a rush, her light-hearted teasing of Lucius’ son had suddenly taken a more serious turn, the boundaries and the ground became much shakier. Just as with his father, Hermione went with total honesty.  It wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to contend with Draco Malfoy’s temper. She felt for her wand just in case of _emergencies._

“Let me ask you a question.”

Hermione saw the flicker of surprise on his face, clearly her response wasn’t what he was expecting, but he nodded his blonde head none the less.

“You have to be truthful with me, and I promise to do the same.”

Again, Draco nodded.

“Do you think your father is the same man he was, when you asked for my help?”

She could almost see the cogs turning in Draco’s brain as he contemplated her question and his answer.

“No, but…”

Draco knew what Hermione was asking him, he had seen many changes in his father in recent weeks but…

“But this is different.”

“Why?” She asked _simply._

It should have been a simple enough explanation too, but every time Draco thought about a reason why, just looking at the young woman seated across the table, confounded his argument.  In the end, his answer sounded like a cop out, even to his own ears.

“Because my parents, my father never liked her, even before all of this.”

A small grin lifted Hermione’s lips.

“That’s not really an answer Draco, your father never liked me _before all of this_ , and neither did you come to that, but people’s opinions of others can change. Once upon a time, I was not welcome in this house.”

Draco positively squirmed at her reference, a very different kind of shame flushing his pallid skin, but he also knew her reference wasn’t meant in a malicious way, she wasn’t having a dig at him or his father, she was simply making a point. She was right of course, as usual. He could hardly argue with her, that she was sitting here talking to him like this, despite all of that, was proof enough of the changes that had occurred.  But the younger Malfoy was still apprehensive.

“Yeah, I know that, it’s just, well….err things _moved on_ a bit at the weekend”

Draco took a deep breath, he’d come this far confiding in Hermione, he might as well tell her the rest…. “I didn’t realise how much…err…having s, um, sleeping with someone would change things. I feel, Oh I don’t know, it’s just weird, I feel.”

This was going really well, talk about prattling, but he wasn’t sure how he felt himself, how in Salazar’s name was he supposed to tell someone else, least of all Hermione Granger.  

“Truthfully, I don’t know how I feel, perhaps, maybe, I don’t know if I want to take that chance again, put Astoria in that position.”

The blathering continued.

“I really like her, I don’t want to, I don’t want her to feel….”

For a moment, Hermione was utterly thrown, not only by Draco’s revelation but also by his words, however inarticulate and bumbling they were, they hit home, hard, knocking her off the Quidditch pitch completely. She tried to push them aside with all the others she had been avoiding, concentrating on the young wizard, but they weren’t having it, not this time.  He was so right, sleeping with someone changed things, no matter how much you assured yourself it didn’t, no matter how far you pushed those inexplicable responses and feelings to the back of your mind, no matter how hard your tried to kid yourself otherwise. She found her question to Draco reflecting the questions racing around in her own mind.

Hermione had never seen such tenderness in Draco’s face or heard such a soft tone in his voice when he spoke of anyone. The only thing she was certain of right now was for him to speak to her, open up to her in this way, his feelings for Astoria Greengrass, were genuine and they ran deep. Much like her own, she finally admitted to herself.

“Can I ask you something else?

“Whatever.” His tone was a little impatient, he wanted answers not more questions, but what did he have to lose.

“You said you picked up right where you left off.”

Draco nodded once more, this time there was no embarrassment flushing his face, his thoughts were too preoccupied.

“Who came to who? Who changed things?”

Draco thought for a moment not entirely sure what Hermione was getting at, but he knew there would be solid reasoning behind her question, there was no doubt about that.

“Well actually Astoria, came to me. I didn’t know she was going to be there, and I thought about leaving once I knew she was, I didn’t want things to be awkward for her.”

Draco’s thoughtfulness was proof enough to Hermione, that this young woman clearly meant a lot to him. Was she being foolish thinking it was an inherent trait?

“Well speaking from a purely feminine perspective, I would say, that even if you don’t want to take any risks, Astoria is happy to.”

She was talking about herself as well as the woman she really couldn’t recall from their school days. She had gone to Lucius, she had been the one who changed things, the one who took a huge gamble.

The rather perplexed look on Draco’s face was a picture. Men she thought, sometimes they really can be so incredibly dense, you just had to spell everything out for them…...cauldron, kettle and black a little voice in her head prompted.

“Astoria came to you; doesn’t that tell you something? Clearly, she wanted to rekindle what you had. No woman would put herself in that position otherwise.”

She had hardly been rekindling anything with Lucius, but despite what she had thought right up until this very moment, her actions certainly gave out a very distinct message, a flash of heat spread through her body. Her mind was racing all over the place, but Hermione had started this with his son, she couldn’t stop or back out now, and thus far Draco was still listening and she was still in one piece.

“She knows Lucius Malfoy is _still_ your father. Obviously, she isn’t concerned about it, even after the article in the Daily Prophet, so neither should you be.”

Her words and her reasoning were almost as if she was talking aloud to herself, but despite where her own thoughts had taken her, she tried to keep her mind on Draco’s situation.

“Astoria is seeing you, not Lucius, not your family.”

The young witch was getting a little exasperated with herself as well as with Draco.

“Why not just give it a go, see what happens? Feelings can take us in the strangest of directions, sometimes we just have to go with them, see where they lead us.”

Behind those clear blue eyes and that thoughtful look, Hermione could see her words slowly sinking in. Behind those warm brown eyes and a look of realisation, Hermione’s own words became abundantly clear. She continued very slowly, talking to herself, just as much as Draco.

“Otherwise you will never know what might have been, and personally I think might haves are just about the worst thing ever.”

“But….”

“No but’s Draco.” Her curt interruption was silencing the voice in her head not the young wizard.

“But’s are just excuses, more often than not, because we are scared.”

Now she had done it, accusing Draco Malfoy of being scared, and making excuses. No that was exactly what she was doing, she was chiding herself more than him, but the young blonde remained silent, as if he was waiting for yet more pearls of wisdom, she was rapidly running out of those all around.

“You don’t have to tell anyone you are together. Just wait and see how it goes”

Hermione found herself thinking more and more about her words to Draco, she really could be talking about herself and his father, everything applied to her just as much as it did to his son, fear, excuses, justifications. Who the hell had she been trying to kid. She gave up trying to push the feelings and thoughts aside, talking to Draco had opened the flood gates in more ways than one.

But in reality, she and Lucius were not together, not in the “normal” sense of the word, but what an earth was normal about any of this? She was here to help him, but being there to help him and having feelings for the dark wizard were not mutually exclusive, as she had rather slowly and a little naively come to realise.  

“Do you really think so?”

Hermione brought her mind fully back to the younger Malfoy, this was about him, right now, he needed her help, her advice. She really would have to think about her _feelings_ for his father another time, Merlin how terrifying did that sound. She fixed her gaze on Draco.

“Yes, I do. Your father has other things on his mind, you popping off to _friends,_ won’t seem odd. And I am here with him, if that is what you are worried about.”

She was here with him; just how would Draco feel about that in a very different sense? Would he be worried, would he be angry? Her mouth went dry as she saw a frown crease Draco’s brow.

“But that’s so not fair Granger, me off _enjoying_ myself, whilst you are stuck here.”

Oh Merlin’ teeth we were back to this again, talk about repetition. But, this really wasn’t the Draco, Hermione knew. It would be easy to be lulled into a false sense of security by his concern, concern she didn’t deserve, not now.  Both father and son had changed enormously, the sad thing was neither of _them_ actually realised it. The young witch forced her mind to refocus, trying to regain her professionalism.  

“Draco for all intense and purposes, I am a here working. Allegedly for the Ministry of Magic, but actually for you. As I told you just now, I always like to spend a few weeks at a time somewhere.”

Draco was hanging on her every word, desperately trying to keep up with what she was saying. She was desperately trying to keep up with everything she was saying. It wasn’t only Draco she was spelling things out for, putting things in perspective for.

“SO, with that in mind, I would usually be looking at spending another two weeks or so here…. working, I wouldn’t expect you to be here all the time. You said yourself, with me here, you don’t have to worry about your father. I am here to work.”

She reiterated the word, hoping it would have better impact on them both.

“Take advantage of that fact, use the time to see how things go with Astoria.”

Maybe she was the one who was taking advantage of Draco’s absence, if not in a bad way. She would certainly view things differently from now on.

Helping Draco was even harder than helping Lucius, but she finally saw a flicker of understanding in the blue eyes which watched her so intently, at last, she thought.  Her mind was now totally refocused on Draco, and the reason she was had come to this house.

“Maybe you could even invite some of those friends to lunch here.”

Hermione saw those same blue eyes widen in horror at the thought, maybe that was a step too far? But no, the young witch persevered, professionally she was right. Going with her utterly refocused mind, she stuck with her words, but deciding a slightly different approach might work in this instance.

“I think professionally speaking it would be good for your father.” She silently added, _and you too._

There it was, the spark of curiosity, the desire to do something to help Lucius in his own way, which of course would in turn benefit himself.

“What do you mean?”

Hermione adopted a more business-like tone, as much for her own benefit as Draco’s.

“Well, by inviting your friends to the Manor, it would demonstrate to your father that you are not ashamed of him _.”_

Hermione felt the fragile ice she was skating on cracking beneath her feet, whatever _relationship_ she had with Lucius, that did not extend to his son, she was pushing her luck, but she went on.

“That you are happy for him to be part of your life, that you want to include him.”

The spark of curiosity and desire in Draco’s blue eyes, morphed into anger, and his voice rose for the first time as he spoke.

“I am not ashamed of my father Granger.” He snapped.

“And of course, he is part of my life.”

She was smiling at him, Hermione Granger could be so infuriating at times, why in Salazar’s name was she smiling at him? And even more frustratingly it was a knowing, smug, kind of smile.

“I know that Draco, you don’t need to convince me. The person who needs to, no, the person who would love to hear it is your father.”

Even more infuriating than everything else was the fact that of course Hermione was right. She had been subtly and sometimes not so subtly encouraging to speak to his father almost since the moment he had asked for her help. But Draco really had no idea where to start, maybe the suggestion of friends coming to lunch might be a place to start, but even that seemed daunting.

“I wished I could talk to my father as easily as you seem to be able to.”

Draco wasn’t sure if he’d meant to say that out loud, but it was too late now. He envied Hermione in many ways, in his head he had envied her ability to be able to talk to his father, in some ways he almost resented how easy it was for her. He only hoped that envy and resentment hadn’t come out in his tone. If it had, Hermione certainly didn’t seem to hold it against him in any way, her response as calm and laced with common sense as it always was.

“I’ve said this before too Draco.”

They were back to repetition again; the irony wasn’t lost on Hermione.

 “it is often much easier to talk to someone with whom you have no real personal connection.”

Well what a lot of rubbish that was, Hermione thought silently, her relationship with Lucius Malfoy was just about as personal and intimate as you could get. She quickly tried to justify her words to Draco.

“I mean with someone who isn’t family.” She tried not to dig herself a bigger hole.

“And it’s so much easier not to talk to my father about personal stuff.”

Draco bit his lip realising what he had said.

“Well that was a pretty stupid thing to say, even by my standards eh Granger?”

Hermione nodded, although she knew exactly what Draco meant, she and Lucius had history but it was of course nothing like the history he shared with his son. Whatever Lucius told Hermione, he was just recounting a story to her, with Draco most of it was shared, and it was not all good, getting passed those old feelings and resentments would not be easy, and would no doubt involve many differences of opinion.

“I know what you mean Draco honestly, even if I talked about the same _personal stuff_ with your father as you, my opinions, my thoughts are likely to be different again. We have to accept, we all have different views.”

Draco was silent for a moment, twisting and turning his empty cup in the saucer once more.

“I think my parents, and especially my father, just thought they were protecting me, in their own way. After everything that had happened I suppose it was only natural and I cannot blame him for that….”

Hermione knew there was a but coming.

“But I know he was protecting himself as well and the Malfoy name, or what was left of it.”

“Do you blame him for that Draco.”

Hermione heard the ice crack just a little bit more, reminding herself again this was Draco she was talking to. Lucius, she had learned to push, to appease and to reassure. Tricks she hadn’t yet mastered with his son, she felt the reassuring touch of her wand. Instead of a spirited response from Draco, she got rather sad shrug of the shoulders.  Hermione decided the ice had held fast this long, but might just test its _thickness_ first.

“Draco, I am lucky here. As that outsider I mentioned before, and also as a person who has spoken to your father, and now you, I can see both sides of the coin.”

Draco remained silent.

“I think you are right, your parents, but especially your father, were protecting you. And as you also rightly say, very much in his own way. You really don’t need me of all people telling you this, but I am going to anyway.”

She saw the tiniest hint of a smile lift Draco’s lips, one thing the younger Malfoy knew for certain about Hermione Granger was she was rarely afraid to say what she thought.

“Your father was brought up with some very strong values and beliefs, they have been instilled in him over a lifetime. some things might change, he might change, but his value of the Malfoy name, his desire to preserve whatever is left of it for his son, for his heirs, will never diminish. And truthfully, I don’t believe you blame him for that. You were just as proud of that name at school, but I think maybe at times you felt it was more important than you.”

Draco could not deny a single word that Hermione said, about either himself or his father. Evidently that person who could see both sides of the coin, could see an awful lot, maybe she always did. He couldn’t resist a little jibe, even if it was only to lighten his nervousness.

“Don’t you get sick of always being right Granger.”

Maybe she had mastered the art of pushing, reassuring and appeasing the younger Malfoy after all. She could tell by his tone, his body language and the glint in his eye he was just teasing her. She kept her response light, not wanting to put him off in any way.

“You get used to it Malfoy.”

Those blue eyes of his sparkled in amusement before darkening, in the exact same way his fathers did when he was about to say something more serious.

“There were times when I was growing up when I desperately needed my father, and for him to be just that, not Lucius Malfoy.  I made myself a promise, if I survived the war, and had a son of my own, I would be a proper father to him, and I would always be there for him, no matter what.”

Hermione suddenly found herself needing to defend Lucius, but justifiably so, the ice was getting thinner.

“I think maybe your father thought the same, but it was hard to go against all that had been instilled in him and then of course the circumstances changed.”

Draco studied the young woman seated across the old wooden table, intently, wondering just what his father had confided in her. He couldn’t believe the conversation they were having, but he liked that she was just as happy to talk to him and oddly that he could talk so freely to her. She really was becoming a friend.

“Sometimes I needed a friend, and I mean a real friend, not just someone who was with me because my last name was Malfoy. In some ways, I feel like I have spent my entire life being alone. I can’t tell you how it felt to be with Astoria again and in that way.”

Extraordinarily Draco didn’t have to tell her, instantly she knew exactly how he felt. She had grown up with Harry and Ronald, they were her friends. But she realised being with Lucius Malfoy, that was the feeling Draco had when he was with Astoria. The notion made her shift nervously.

Draco was flushing at his own frank admission, his colour suddenly deepened realising that she’d been involved with Weasley, it would stand to reason she would know how he felt being with Astoria. Hermione didn’t appear fazed by his admission, but for the first time he noticed she seemed uneasy.

“I guess it must have been how you and Weasley felt.”

The flush deepened still further, he really hadn’t meant to say that out loud, his own attempt at empathy clearly failing miserably.

“Sorry Granger, that was a bit too personal, I just meant of course you would know what it’s like”.

Draco quickly quit whilst he was, marginally ahead.

Hermione couldn’t resist the smile which crept over her face. Draco Malfoy had just told her he had slept with someone, confessed some very deep, very personal feelings, and now here he was apologising to her.  She quickly put him out of his obvious misery.

“It’s fine Draco honestly. We promised to be truthful with each other.”

The trouble was she wasn’t being exactly truthful with him and she felt guilty about that.  Yes, she did know how he felt, but the youngest Weasley son had absolutely nothing to do with those feelings.  She would never lie to Lucius, and she wanted to uphold that with his son; that he felt happy enough or perhaps it was unhappy enough to talk to her in this way, she wanted to maintain that, it was with that in mind that, she chose her words to Draco with even more care than usual.

“Seeing how you looked when you spoke of Astoria, and the tone in your voice, I don’t think I ever felt anything like that for Ronald.”

It was Draco who now moved awkwardly in his seat.

“We were friends, very good friends and we still are. I think time and circumstances pushed us into something else, something that we weren’t ready for or that maybe wasn’t right for us. Fortunately, we both realised that and we are still good friends. But if something is right Draco and it feels that way, you must grasp it with both hands and not let go. No matter what others might say or do, no matter who they are. You have got a second chance, not everyone is that lucky.”

Hermione Granger had always been feisty at school, always stood up for what she believed in, a cause, a friend, herself even.  She was still feisty, but there was something different, she spoke with a passionate maturity, it still came from the heart but it was the wisdom of someone who had seen and done so much, someone way beyond her years. He supposed in a way that was true, what she had seen and done, what they had all seen and done, was beyond all of their years.

“I cannot push you into speaking to your father Draco and despite what you might think, I wouldn’t.  But what I said before about having some friends here at the Manor, it would be a place to start, some relatively safe ground, which harks back to the past just enough to make it not a totally easy conversation to have.”

She could see that despite their frank conversation Draco wasn’t entirely convinced, that streak of defiance crossing his pale face. Just how strong was this ice she had been skating on for the best part of an hour, how much more would it take.

“Draco, you have been brave enough to talk to me, tell me some things which I am certain weren’t easy. You even said you wished you could talk to your father as easily as I can. Talking to Lucius Malfoy is far from easy, you don’t need me to tell you that. Lucius has spoken to you a couple of times, okay his hand was forced, but he still spoke to you and it was so difficult for him. Draco this time **you** have to start somewhere. You are not a child anymore, be a man, show your father if he can do it so can you.”

Those blue eyes were thunderously dark, but somewhere in the seething silence, Hermione knew her words had sunk in. Whether or not Draco would actually act on them remained to be seen. Thankfully, Hermione did not sink into a pool or icy water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My continued thanks for your support of this story, for those of you still with me, I hope that you will continue to enjoy it.


	87. Father And Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continued thanks for comments and kudos, nice words give a girl heart to write, and you guys give me heart. My usual apologies etc for faux pas blah blah 
> 
> No Chapter summary as I think the title speaks for itself......I hope you enjoy

Kauno and Isa’s heads suddenly lifted and the door to the kitchen swung open.

Lucius Malfoy’s pale grey eyes took in the scene before him, happy to see his son back at the manor, his gaze shifted from Draco to Hermione, the scene seemed sociable enough, but he sensed something in the air, saying nothing, he crossed the room to join them at the table.

Hermione was even more aware of the dark wizard’s presence than ever, she would have said in a very different way, but she wasn’t sure that was strictly true.

“Would you like some tea Lucius?” She offered, keeping mind on the _other_ situation, giving Draco a look which screamed go on ask him…

“That would be lovely thank you.”

“Draco, do you want another cup?” Her tone as light and easy as it had been in her address to his father.

The younger Malfoy wafted his cup in Hermione’s direction with something between a panicked and sulky “Yes please.”

Lucius took the seat at the head of the worn kitchen table, there was definitely something in the air, there didn’t seem to be any animosity between his son and their guest, the conversation was all very polite, overly so in fact, but he detected a little tension. No wanting to get off on the wrong foot with Draco after his few days away, he decided to stick to a safe topic.

“I assume you had a nice weekend Draco?”

Even with her back to father and son, making tea the Muggle way, Hermione could hear the slightly nervous tone in the younger wizard’s tone.

“Yes, it was lovely, I am glad I decided to stay the extra day.”

Hermione listened to the intervening silence, for Merlin’s sake this was like pulling troll’s teeth. She didn’t usually like to interfere between Lucius and Draco, that was way beyond her remit, but well actually she wasn’t interfering at all, she was just recapping her conversation and that was perfectly acceptable. Concentrating on the _issue_ with Draco also kept her thoughts away from her own _issues_ with Lucius.

“I was just saying to Draco……”

As two cups of hot tea floated across the room to the table, she saw Draco’s blue eyes enlarge like their saucer’s. Taking on the house elf look once more.

“He should return the compliment.”

As a plate of biscuits followed the tea to the seated pair, her tone remained light and easy, but Hermione could almost feel Draco’s silent hex, she dreaded to think what it was, giving him a rather sickly sweet, but rather triumphant smile.

As he sipped his own beverage, Lucius detected this was the tension that hung silently in the air, although he was at a distinct loss as to why.  Draco had spent the weekend with friends, good manners decreed that he should at some point return the invitation. He might have been lacking in many parenting skills, but he had always taught his son, good manners and the correct social etiquette.

“But off course you should Draco, it is only proper.”

Hermione studied the elder Malfoy carefully, realising it was not just to ascertain his reaction.

“I appreciate things have moved on a bit since my day, but I don’t think good manners and taking a turn have gone out of style.”

Hermione all but dragged her watchful eyes away from Lucius, her amused, I told you so stare now falling on his son, intrigued as to how he would respond, would he dare to argue with his father?

“I just thought with everything going on, Granger being here and… well it wouldn’t be a good time.”

Lucius found his curiosity getting the better of him, he was more certain than ever that this had caused a difference of opinion between his offspring and Hermione, but he could still not understand why. He could just ask outright he supposed, if it was just Hermione here he would, she would tell him without hesitation. Something stopped him, not wishing to upset his son, possibly take Hermione’s side over his. It must be something to do with him, Draco had worried it wasn’t _a good time, with Hermione being here and_ _everything going on_. Hmm that particular phrase covered a large spectrum and rattled around in Lucius’ mind, it did not however throw any further light on his son’s reasoning.

Lucius had to admit he rather liked the idea of the Manor having guests of some sort again, save for Hermione, there had been no visitors to the Manor since, the New Year’s Party when…...aha things began to fall into place, become a little clearer. The older wizard realised that after what had ensued that night, and _everything_ that had happened since, his son was probably more than a little reticent about inviting anyone to his home, and for many different reasons.  He got the distinct impression that Hermione had probably tried to convince him otherwise and had not been entirely successful, that words had been exchanged.

He didn’t have to play devil’s advocate with Hermione, she was more than capable of standing her ground with him, even enjoying a little verbal sparring and some teasing, sadly he didn’t have that kind of relationship with his son. A gentler, more subtler approach was required, Hermione had taught him that particular art form, although in his day it might have been called cunning and conniving, something which of course Lucius was no stranger to.

“You might have a point Draco.”

It was the younger Malfoy’s turn to look triumphant with an I told you so look cast in Hermione’s direction, helping himself to a celebratory shortbread. The young witch for her part was not convinced. She really had gotten to know the dark wizard very well, something in his mannerisms told her he was up to something.

“Perhaps we should wait until after the article in the Daily Prophet is published, just in case.”

And she was right, a very nicely played move she mused, slipping that casually into the conversation.  The look on Draco’s face veered from confusion laced with an air of panic, clearly thinking his father was talking about the story previously published by the newspaper and that he had quite possibly lost the plot. To comprehension that he was referring to the one she had intended setting up, to realisation that obviously, she had already done so and they had in fact met with Rita Skeeter.

“Wait, what, you mean you have done it already? When? Granger only mentioned it as an idea last week……I was only gone a few days.”

Lucius sipped his tea nonchalantly, before replacing the delicate china back into the saucer, helping himself to a biscuit, he slowly responded to his son.

“Yes, it appears Hermione is not one for wasting any time, and we met with Rita Skeeter at the Ministry yesterday.”

There were those huge saucer like blue eyes once more.

“You met her at the Ministry of Magic? Did it go okay?” The younger Malfoy clearly full of questions.

“Yes, Hermione arranged it all with the Minster at their meeting on Friday. I think it went well, but then perhaps I shouldn’t say that until we see the article in print.”

Hermione found those big blue eyes fixed on her, the questions now flying in her direction.

“Do you think your idea will work Granger?  Will Rita Skeeter take back what she said before?”

“I don’t honestly think that Rita Skeeter will retract what she said previously, but what she is going to have to print, will certainly contradict, much of what she wrote before. So, in that respect yes Draco I think it will work.”

The young witch now found herself under another fixed gaze, this time the eyes a very silver intensity, her heart beat a little faster.

Draco noticed the look between his father and Hermione, and anxiety shot through his bones.

“What aren’t you two telling me.”

There was a huge amount that she and Lucius weren’t telling Draco, colour spotted her cheeks again as she looked in the older wizard’s direction.  She had agreed to be with Lucius when he talked to his son about the original article, and how he felt that Narcissa should not take all of the blame for it, but watching them together now, she felt it was something he should do alone with his son. The direction this conversation had taken seemed perfect for father and son to talk to each other.

“I think it would be better if your father explained Draco.”

Hermione looked at Lucius, anxiety reflecting in his pale grey eyes. She saw the questioning look in his face, clearly wondering why she was backing out of her agreement.

Her explanation was for Lucius, but she didn’t want Draco knowing they had discussed this already, so she  kept her words still light and general.

“Well, my opinion of Rita Skeeter is even more biased than his.”

She offered them both a smile, knowing that was a very close call, all the while silently reassuring Lucius that this was for the best, and that he would be fine.

“Also, I have an owl or two to write, if I don’t do it now I might forget and as you father says, good manners have not gone out of style.”

Her chocolate brown gaze locked with Lucius’ once more giving him the same silent reassurance that he could do this, before she left the room, leaving father and son alone.

 

Lucius looked at the young man seated across the table, his beautiful son. He was simply that his son, his own flesh and blood, the child he adored, the young man he was so proud of, although probably did not show either emotion as he should. He wasn’t the Wizengamot, but Lucius still felt nervous. What he was going to tell him was easy enough, would probably even count as good news, but deep down the dark wizard feared the conversation might become more involved, more profound and he wasn’t sure he was capable of handling that, not yet and certainly not on his own anyway.

The soft sound of claws on stone broke the rather uneasy silence that had fallen on the kitchen, and Kauno came to sit beside his chair, a warm head briefly brushed against his leg, just like one of Hermione’s gentle reassuring touches. The older man smiled as the large hound settled at his side. How strange he should suddenly feel so connected to Hermione through his own dog, the idea that he should want to feel connected to her, not seeming strange at all.

“We aren’t not telling you something Draco.”

Lucius heard the apprehension in his own voice, he stroked the silky the head of the animal at his side and a warm confidence ebbed through his body. It wasn’t that he couldn’t talk to his son, or that he didn’t want to, he had done it before, it was just he wasn’t used to talking about certain things. With his own upbringing, that kind of communication didn’t come easily to him, and of course the situation with Narcissa had not exactly helped. His own thoughts and feelings, were definitely a taboo subject, but Hermione had obviously had no doubts in his ability.

Something else again kicked into the elder Malfoy, that overwhelming desire not to let her down, to assure her, that her trust and belief in him was not misplaced. Lucius straightened his spine, took another sip from his cup, speaking once more to his son. His clipped aristocratic tone, imbuing much more assurance, but laced with its own reassuring note.

“It was just something I came to realise during the meeting with Rita Skeeter.”

Lucius paused, he had always been a forthright speaker, liking to get straight to the point. He wanted to do this with his son, but he also did not want to sound detached or flippant in any way, so he had to choose his words with care. This time it was just him speaking, there were no outside influences, no so called “helping” spells. This was purely down to Lucius, again, he thought of Hermione, she did this with such ease and confidence with everyone, not just him.  He hoped he could justify that trust and belief.

“Your mother might have spoken to Rita Skeeter.”

He saw anger flash in his son face and went on quickly, not wanting to be deterred.

“Quite probably instigated the article in the Prophet, but Rita Skeeter has a skilful way of twisting anything and everything you say to her. If she cannot turn it into something nasty, then that quick quill of hers will do it for her.”

Lucius could still see the deep-seated anger in his Draco’s blue eyes and he wasn’t sure if his son’s silence was a good or bad thing. He was grateful to be allowed to speak freely, but at the same time the quiet made him more apprehensive.

“Having experienced that first hand, I do not feel that your mother was entirely responsible for everything that was said in the article.”

Draco’s silence became even more unnerving and Lucius wondered if he should continue. He did.

“I know she was paid handsomely for _her story_ , that she wanted to get back at me, but I couldn’t understand your mother wanting to hurt you in that way Draco, and having met with the contemptible reporter, I honestly do not think that she did.”

Lucius was nowhere near as good as reading people as Hermione, not even his own son, but he did notice Draco’s angry features soften slightly as he continued to speak.

 “I know you now understand the situation between your mother and I, but whatever else has happened, she is still your mother Draco. I do not want that woman’s vicious bile to sully that or for you to be under any misapprehensions.”

Draco wanted to respond to his father but found himself unable to do so, it was as if he were under the influence of a silencio charm, maybe Hermione had cast it before leaving, his mouth was parched, he wished he hadn’t drunk his tea quite so quickly. So many questions rushed around in his head, it was as if a lifetime’s worth of them had suddenly formed a queue in his brain; they were all scrabbling to get out at once.

Despite the abating anger in Draco’s face, Lucius took his son’s lack of response as a bad thing, and became even more worried that this was not coming out as it should. He really wished Hermione had stayed to talk to Draco with him, he knew he would mess this up, no matter how simple a task it was. Lucius Malfoy talking about such things made for a very bad mix, it was why he avoid such situations and intense meaningful conversations.  He tried again, this time just sticking to facts about the interview and the reporter.

“I think Hermione is right, Rita Skeeter will not retract any of what she has already said, but I think between her and the Minister of Magic, this will at least have to be accurate, she will have to report what was said and not what she wants to.”

Draco nodded, he understood what his father was saying to him. Supporting his mother in this way after all of the hurt and upset she had caused, with or without the help of Rita Skeeter, that took a lot of character on his father’s part. The younger Malfoy found a respect for him he would not have thought possible, suddenly seeing the man he had always wanted, but only imaged his father to be.

His respect and admiration also grew for someone else he had once hated and vilified. He was well aware of just how highly the Minister of Magic regarded Hermione Granger, and having seen Hermione defend his father both against himself and his mother, there was no way she would allow his father to be ridiculed or hurt further in any way. The irony of all of that was not lost on the young wizard. When he had gone to her in search of help, never for a moment, not even in his wildest dreams could he have imaged what had happened since; Hermione Granger giving him advice, talking to him like a friend. Hermione Granger standing up for Lucius Malfoy.  The reality of his thoughts flooded his brain, pushing the barrage of questions to the fore.

“Do you think she will print what you said, and not twist it all to her own advantage?”

Lucius breathed in inward sigh of relief at Draco’s question, it was relevant, but it was one that he could answer easily and truthfully.

“Well firstly, the Minister of Magic, put some precautions in place so that Miss Skeeter could not use her poisonous quill, it mysteriously and fortunately failed to work. So, she had to write everything down herself, without it’s help I doubt she could be quite as scathing as she had hoped. Also, Hermione tells me that Kingsley has a certain amount of censorship on the article, he gets final approval before it goes to print. If he doesn’t like it, or it is derogatory or untruthful in any way, it will not be published.”

“Hermione and the Minister weren’t taking any chances.” Draco observed, listening intently to his father.

Lucius shook his head.

“No Draco they weren’t and we should both be very grateful for their support. When I agreed to help her and the Minister, I confess, it was in the hope that it might do us some good, curry a little favour with the Ministry, but I honestly did not expect anything like this.”

Draco found his gaze averting from his father’s, his desire to help was obviously working and clearly more than a little good had come out of his subterfuge, but he still felt very guilty. His guilt eased slightly when he heard that very different tone in his father’s voice when he spoke of Hermione. It was a genuine warmth that he had rarely heard, it reminded him of something Hermione herself had said about his own tone and it made him feel oddly secure. Somewhere along the line he had made a good decision, and it made talking about Hermione a safe subject.

“I didn’t think I’d ever hear myself saying this and certainly not to you but it’s nice having Granger on our side, having her as a friend.”

Lucius could not agree more with his son, and for so many different reasons. He was glad he felt that way too, and for even more reasons.

He nodded, smiling at Draco.

“You are right Draco.  I am not a believer in fate or any such nonsense, but I thank whatever good fortune brought her to this house, to us.”

“Us” two little letters, one small word, but to the dark wizard it was huge, meaning so much. Just as with Hermione, Lucius suddenly found himself consumed by an overwhelming need to be totally honest with his son, talking about something he never had before, he wasn’t sure how far he could get, but just feeling the need, was a place to start.  That honesty had stood him in good stead with the young witch, he hoped his son was equally as receptive and understood the magnitude of his words.

 “I never thought that I would refer to my past, my association with the Dark Lord or my time in Azkaban as good fortune, but it appears that those are the things which brought her here, so I feel I must.”

Draco was once more at a loss for words, just as Hermione had said, it had been necessity and circumstances which had forced his father to speak candidly to him on previous occasions. But this…. this was simply him talking to the young man as a son, he realised it was Hermione’s influence, but it didn’t matter, if nothing else it proved she was helping him and that he had been right to ask for that help.  The part of Draco that was steeped in guilt for bringing Hermione into their house, their lives, gave way to an odd sadness, that he couldn’t confide in his father, that he too had had a hand in her being here. Maybe one day he could do that, would have the confidence in himself and in their relationship to do so, but today wasn’t that day.

There were so many things he wanted to say to his father, so many more questions he wanted to ask, but he could see for himself, just how difficult it was for him to talk about them, again that insight was Hermione’s influence. It was the wrong word totally, but the younger wizard was pleased that he had even mentioned these things, he knew just how big a deal this was for his father, more so than ever in the last few months. Another poor choice of words, but he would love to talk more with him about it, share his own experiences too, but he could see in his father’s face he wasn’t ready for that, not yet anyway. Maybe Hermione had the courage to push him, get him to talk to her, but Draco Malfoy wasn’t that brave, his relationship with his father was better than it had been, but it was still a little tenuous and he did not want to risk what they had.

“I guess we shouldn’t dwell on the reasons that brought her here, just be grateful that she is.”

Draco had finally found his voice again. A familiar little flush also grazed his cheeks once more, along with a flicker of guilt in his blue eyes, guilt which had nothing to do with the present, but everything to do with the past.

“Neither of us deserves that she is.”

Again, Lucius could not agree more with his offspring. “That we do not Draco.”

A sudden smile lifted Lucius lips, he noticed the quizzical look on his son’s face, proffering an explanation.

“If I were saying this to Hermione now, I would be on the receiving end of a serious ticking off.”

The visual of Granger telling his father off caused Draco to smile too, still wondering why she would be doing so.

“As you can probably imagine, this has come up many times over the last week or so.  My saying I do not warrant Hermione’s time or consideration after everything that I have done. I find myself being told off like a naughty schoolboy, that it is in the past, that you and she have moved on and that she and I should do the same. The last time I brought it up, I was told in no uncertain terms, that _we are not having this conversation again.”_

The smile on Draco’s face broadened, his father’s unexpected openness, giving the mental image in his head a life of its own. The slight figure of Hermione Granger telling his formidable father off like Minerva McGonagall with a Hogwart’s first year. Noticing the look of curiosity on his father’s face, it was Draco’s turn to elaborate.

“Sorry father, your words drew their own rather graphic picture in my head. It’s difficult to imagine anyone telling you off about anything, let alone Granger.” His thing lips twitched a little more.

“Except maybe Granger.”

“Hmm”

Lucius raised a blonde brow at his son, he didn’t have to draw any pictures in his own mind, he had been on the receiving end of Hermione’ Granger’s wrath and feistiness, on more than one occasion over the last few days, actually since he had first met her, but it still made him smile.

“She wasn’t frightened to give me a piece of her mind as a child, as an adult she is even less inclined to do so.”

This time Draco laughed out right, he might have had to draw the mental picture of Hermione Granger, tearing a strip of his father now, but he too had been in Flourish and Blotts when the second-year Hogwarts student had faced off against the imposing figure of Lucius Malfoy in the book shop in Diagon Ally. Draco looked at his father a little sheepishly, finding it a lot easier to talk to him than he had expected, and even enjoying it.

 “She has never been intimidated by the Malfoys.” He unconsciously rubbed his face.

“When we were in our third year at Hogwarts, the year I was attacked by that Hippogriff, Buckbeak.”

Lucius nodded, recalling the incident well. “I remember, it injured your arm and Walden MacNair was sent to execute it.”

“Yeah that’s right, its execution had been set and I was laughing about you letting me keep its head with Crabbe and Goyle.”

Lucius raised a wary brow at his son’s revelation, noticing the rather awkward look on his face, he reached for his cup once more.

“Granger was with Potter and Weasley, and she heard me joking about it, she called me foul and evil, threatened me with her wand, and then punched me in the face.”

Lucius choked on the final mouthful of tea he had been about to swallow, putting his hand to his mouth and replacing the cup quickly in the saucer. He wasn’t entirely sure how to react to Draco’s somewhat belated confession, his son had painted his own very colourful image and Lucius bizarrely found himself wanting to laugh out loud.

“Not that I’d have admitted it the time, but she had a point.”

Draco laughed aloud at his own plight, remembering the incident with painful clarity, still rubbing his face where her hand or rather her fist, had connected with it. His father’s face was agonisingly serious and a little flushed, perhaps he was able to forgive some things more than others. Maybe Draco had expected too much, too soon, he silently chastised himself.

“I should not condone such behaviour against my own son.” Lucius fought to keep his emotions in check, the image now playing out in glorious technicolour in his head. 

“However, I must confess, I would have paid several galleons to have witnessed that.”

A little while ago Draco had found himself unexpectedly laughing with Hermione Granger, it had felt good. Laughing with his father was even more unexpected but felt even better. They had often smirked at someone, even laughed at another’s misfortune but Draco could honestly never remember genuinely laughing with his father, even if they were actually laughing at his own misfortune.  One way or another incurring the wrath, and the feisty antics of Hermione Granger had brought laughter in to Malfoy Manor.

The shared confidence, the laughter and the talk of Hermione had given Draco a boost of confidence. It seemed that he too had something to prove to the young witch.

“What you were saying before about guests at the Manor, did you mean it?”

“Of course, Draco, not only for propriety and good manners, but this is your home too, your friends are always welcome here.”

He was delighted with his son’s question, but saw a little apprehension drift across his face, either he wasn’t telling him everything or his was still concerned about something, maybe it was a little of both.  

“It was always nice to have guests at the Manor, those who were invited at least.”

Lucius again eluded to the past, wanting to be able to talk to his son, but needing to take it carefully for both of their sakes. He loved his only child very much, his way of showing that might not always have been the right way, and he was certain, in recent months he hadn’t shown it at all. He couldn’t change that in the blink of an eye or with the waving of a wand, despite what Narcissa may have believed.

“I am sure they do not all hold fond memories for you, and in the past few months I would not have been the most gracious or welcoming of hosts.”

 “You… and mother were not always gracious or welcoming to my friends.” The words were out before Draco could stop them, and he regretted them instantly.

His blue eyes met, his father’s intense grey. A flicker of anger lit them momentarily before it faded into sad resignation. His father’s words once more coming to surprise the younger man.

“I have no defence Draco, during those times, some people were much more acceptable than others, the families they came from were very important when it came to status and status was everything. After the war, it was difficult to adjust those beliefs.”

A wry smile found its way onto Lucius’ mouth.

“Back then Hermione would never had been welcome in this house”

It was Draco’s turn to smile.

“Funny she said exactly the same thing.”

So, Lucius had been right, there had been an air of tension when he’d entered the kitchen, and apparently, just as he’d suspected he had been the centre of the discussion. His inquisitiveness was rife, but at the same time he wondered if he might be pushing his luck, evidently some of Hermione’s _interrogation skills_ were rubbing off on the dark wizard.

“And of course, Draco we both know, Hermione is seldom wrong.”

The brief sense of anger in the room quelled on both of their parts, even without her physical presence the young witch seemed to be having a calming effect on both of the Malfoy men.

“Ain’t that the truth.” Draco forgot himself, having tormented Hermione with the same jibe only moments before, recovering quickly at the look of astonishment on his father’s face.

“Snape called her an insufferable know it all in class once.”

Over his rising curiosity, Lucius was filled with all manner of emotions. He enjoyed hearing about Hermione at school, ignoring the facts that the person with whom he was sleeping had been in the same classes as his son at school, and that she had even inflicted bodily harm upon that very same son. But more over he loved that Draco was recounting them, oh of course as a young boy he had come home telling many stories, Lucius was sure that some of them were precisely that too. Others were because he wanted Lucius, a school governor at the time, to sort something out for him or to buy something, like new broomsticks for the Quidditch team.  It had never been just for the fun of relating what had happened, or because he wanted to share it, Lucius knew he was as much to blame for that as his son. He rarely showed any interest unless Draco did need him to sort something out, or the procurement of new broomsticks was required, things which made Lucius look more important or influential.

Hearing these tales now, so many years later was joyous, as was the fact that his son now felt comfortable doing so, but it also made him feel sad, he’d always thought of himself as a doting parent, but really, he was just an indulgent parent, there was a big difference. Indulging your child could be done easily with money, showing up at school events, but only when it looked good to others. Doting took time and effort, both of which Lucius had lacked when it came to Draco.

“You never told me these things before.”

“No I didn’t.” Draco admitted without hesitation.

“I only ever told you anything when I wanted something or needed your help.”

Draco’s tone was wistful as he echoed Lucius own thoughts.

“I might have told you at the time Professor Snape was hateful to Granger in class, deducted house points from Gryffindor, but I would never have come home and told you she punched me in the face.”

The older wizard look regretfully at his son. “For fear of what I might have done.”

“Err no actually, out of sheer embarrassment. Coming home and admitting to Lucius Malfoy, that not only had I been punched in the face by a girl, but by a Gryffindor Mudblood at that.”

The word grated upon Lucius, made him feel sick, but he knew Draco had not used in in derisory way, not now, not as they both would have done previously.  Used of the time and to relate a story, it made the dark wizard smile once more.

“You have a point Draco, that would have brought such shame upon this family.”

Hearing his son’s laughter brought unbridled joy to Lucius, it really wasn’t so very difficult talking to him, and taking advantage of the happy mood, Lucius returned to their original topic of conversation.

“Draco please feel free to invite any of your friends to the Manor, I am sorry if I did not make them feel welcome in the past, that will not happen again I promise you.”

Not so very long ago Draco might have taken this as an empty promise from his father, but he knew now, his words were genuine and that he would honour that promise.

“Thank you, father.”


	88. A Different Kind of Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well I think we could probably call this a little interlude more than a chapter, if you see what I mean.....I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.....

 

Dear Kingsley…...Hermione had screwed up the first piece of parchment, casting it aimlessly into the waste paper basket.

Dear Harry…...Hermione had screwed up the second piece of parchment, it met the same fate as the first.

Screwing the paper up and tossing it into the bin was so much more satisfying than magically erasing and starting again, it must have been the Muggle in her.

Giving up on the first two notes she had started to write, they had involved far too much thought about Lucius, Hermione decided to start with the easiest of the three owls.

_Dear Mister Weasley_

_It was lovely bumping into you at the Ministry yesterday. I am very sorry that I couldn’t stay and chat longer._

Or your idiot son might have attempted to hex Lucius Malfoy, again…... that bit remained firmly in her head, fortunately she didn’t have one of Rita Skeeter’s quick quills or it might have been a very different story.

_I must also apologise for not having been by to see you and Mrs Weasley in a while, work has kept me rather busy and a little distracted._

A little voice in her head reminded her it was actually Lucius Malfoy who had kept her _busy and more than a **little** distracted, _ if that was what she wanted call it. Much as Hermione had hoped this note to Ronald’s father would keep thoughts of the dark wizard from her mind it appeared he crept into them at every opportunity. Clearly the idea of keeping her thoughts from Lucius, for a while anyway wasn’t working as well as she’d hoped. She returned her quill to the paper.

_I hope that you will forgive me, it would be lovely to see you all again soon, so I hope that invitation to lunch still stands._

_With Love_

_Hermione x_

It was just a short note, but then her meeting Arthur Weasley had been more fortuitous than sociable, her concern had been about Ronald, well actually her concern had been about Lucius. There he was again, never far from those thoughts of hers, and now she realised all too clearly why, and it was having less and less to do with her promise to Draco, to help his father.

 She returned her wandering mind, for the time being anyway, to her note. She really was very fond of Arthur Weasley and didn’t want him feeling she had brushed him off in any way. Popping the parchment in an envelope and placing it on the large writing desk in the library she pondered which one to tackle next.

_Dear Kingsley_

For some reason, maybe because it was _supposed_ to be work related, more of an update, this note seemed a lot easier to compose.

_I hope you had an interesting and productive visit with MACUSA and are now safely back with us. I just wanted to drop you a quick note to let you know the meeting with Rita Skeeter went well, or at least as well as meeting with her can go. I am hoping that that the interview will reflect that, and publication will be able to go ahead and without any censorship, or perhaps I am being a little over optimistic._

Hermione could almost see the look on Kingsley Shacklebolt’s round face as he read, probably smiling and nodding his head in agreement at her optimism.

_Thank you once again not only for your support with this but also for allowing me…._

This time she did enlist the use of a magical eraser, changing the word, with a brief wave of her wand.

_Lucius and I, to use your office. The precautions you put in place were very much appreciated and as you suggested, we did add one of our own, just to err on the side of caution. You never can be too safe where that woman is concerned._

Lucius and I, we… the words came all too easily and flowed very nicely, both on paper and in Hermione’s head. She drew herself back to the black ink.

_On the whole, I feel it all went very well, but I suppose that remains to be seen. Please let me know if there is anything further you need from me, I look forward to hearing from you and seeing you soon._

The tone was professional and personal enough and Hermione was happy with the second relatively brief note, this one to the Minister of Magic, she signed her name with a flourish, applied a quick blotto charm, folded the heavy paper and put it in an envelope, placing it alongside the other one.

 

_Dear Harry …._

For some reason the note to her oldest friend was the most difficult to compose. In all honesty, she didn’t need to write to him at all, but Hermione being Hermione, it just felt like the right thing to do.

_I am so pleased you stopped by yesterday, it was lovely to see you._

Heat flooded the young witch’s body, five minutes earlier and it wouldn’t have been quite so lovely to see him. She felt her face colour with the same heat.

_We just seem to see each other in passing these days, which is really quite sad, it would be good to have a proper catch up, maybe over that dinner you suggested with Ginny, soon..._

Another rush of heat flooded Hermione’s body, this one for very different reasons and it pooled into a sickly cold sweat. If the interview with Rita Skeeter was acceptable to Kingsley Shacklebolt and the article was published in one of this week’s editions of the Prophet, Hermione was going to come under some heavy scrutiny, not to mention a barrage of questions from many people, top of that list of people was undoubtedly going to be, Harry, closely followed quite possibly by the entire Weasley clan. Answering a barrage of questions about her work was one thing, heavy scrutiny and a further volley of questions about Lucius Malfoy and her involvement with him, was something else entirely.

Hermione absently gazed out of the window, it was a breezy afternoon. The wind pushing the clouds back and forth across the sun, one minute the beautiful Spring flowers were bathed in its bright rays, the next darkened by the large angry looking clouds. She watched quite entranced at how quickly the switch from light to dark occurred, feeling that could be about to happen to her. Just how understanding were her old friends going to be? This was work, well at least it was supposed to be, sanctioned by the Ministry of Magic, _on paper anyway,_ but she was working with Lucius Malfoy, deep down Hermione knew, Molly and Ginny Weasley for two, would have the same reactions and opinions as Ronald. The clouds obscured the brilliant sunshine and the gardens were once more shrouded in threatening greyness.  Mister Weasley had stepped in at the Ministry, he was polite to Lucius and then of course there had been Harry, and their encounter in Kingsley’s office, he and Lucius had been surprisingly civil, nice even to each other. The strong wind blew the clouds away, revelling that glorious blue sky, allowing the sun to shine down on the glorious array of blooms. This definitely reflected what lie ahead for Hermione. She savoured the bright, happy sunshine, she had enough to think about and contend with right now, she wasn’t going to try and pre-empt, the collective condemnatory remarks the Weasley’s might have.

Hermione looked at the half-written letter before her, and contemplated the one she had already penned to Arthur Weasley; lunch with him and Molly, dinner with Harry and Ginny, soon, maybe they wouldn’t be quite as lovely as she’d thought.

 

So much for too much thought about Lucius, the universe was evidently conspiring to make her think about him.... which in one way she supposed she should, she needed too. She wasn’t trying not think about him, well not exactly, she just needed a clearer head than the one she had right now, to do that, just how crazy did that sound. And when exactly that was going to happen, she hadn’t the faintest idea. Merlin her head hurt, sorting out other people’s minds and thoughts was a whole lot simpler than trying to sort out her own.  Lucius Malfoy invaded her mind and her body at every available opportunity, with every innocuous thought or gesture. This really wasn’t what was meant to have happened, how the hell it had was even more of a mystery.  But as her entire being warmed to thoughts of him, mind body and soul, Hermione realised it was a little bit late to be thinking about this at all. The _damage_ was already done, and it was very much a case of shutting the stable door after the horse had bolted. Not that she objected to that warm feeling that invaded her mind, her soul and especially not her body when she thought of him.

Still looking out of the window, Hermione sucked on the end of her quill, even this silly little gesture reminded her of the dark wizard, his handsome but repulsed face as he recalled Rita Skeeter, doing the self-same thing to the quill he had lent her. A little laugh escaped her lips as she looked at the somewhat soggy feather.

“I know exactly what you are thinking about.”

A dark, incredibly sexy voice drifted across the room. Deep in her thoughts, Hermione had not heard the door to the library open.

“I was remembering your face, and the look of overt disgust after Ms Skeeter flirted with you.” Hermione repeated the action with her own quill, attempting to bestow her best Rita Skeeter look in Lucius’ direction.

“Hmm.” A frown wrinkled his brow, his eyes darkening.

“Fortunately, there is absolutely nothing about you which resembles Ms Skeeter.”

Lucius moved into the room, closing the door behind him, his grey eyes fixed penetratingly on Hermione.

“However, you my dear have the effect, I think perhaps, _she_ was hoping for.”

Hermione noticed Lucius did not mention the reporter’s name again, recognising that glint in those expressive eyes of his only too well, and thrilling to the somewhat surprising implication. The nagging little voice in the back of her mind had been shoved out of the way and clamoured over by the little devil.

“Oh, and what _effect_ was that Lucius?”

Hermione feigned innocence, her warm brown eyes, doe like as they looked questioningly at Lucius, the tip of the dark feather disappearing once more between her lips. As he moved across the room, closing the space between them Hermione heard the dark wizard mutter something, she wasn’t sure what, a charm perhaps, an unguarded thought, whatever it was her blood heated as arousal coursed through it. She had imagined he had perhaps come to tell her about his conversation with his son, but the look on his face was one of glittering intent, not of enlightening chatter.

His thumb brushing over her mouth was as soft and light as the quill feather itself. Her heart pounded at his gentleness, it pounded even harder at the latent desire that flickered in his eyes.

“You have a perfect mouth, beautifully soft and so reassuring.”

His thumb was replaced by his forefinger as it traced the seam of her lips. Hermione, felt he had touched her intimately, so intense was his delicate caress.

“Sensual but firm and enjoyably feisty.” A naughty smile lifted his own mouth.

Hermione resisted the urge to lick her lips and Lucius’ wandering finger in the process, those big doe like brown eyes remained fixed upon his. She noticed the colour in them shift from pale silver, to that odd greyish blue mix and then to almost slate grey.

“That first evening we spent together.” His words were caught somewhere between a question and a statement.

With the blisteringly erotic brush of his finger against her lips, Hermione knew exactly what Lucius was alluding to, her face burned at her own brazenness with him that night, her body burned at the memory of the taste of him. Despite the blistering heat searing through her face and her body, Hermione remained exceptionally cool and remarkably equivocal.

“When we had dinner at the hotel?” She asked quietly.

Her poker face was obviously improving when it came to Lucius, seeing the tiniest flicker of frustration light his features as he shook his head.

She offered him a girlish, artificially coy smile. “Oh, _that_ evening.”

Hermione’s eyes sparkled right back at Lucius’. As she spoke, her lips and tongue touched his finger. In the silence of the room Hermione didn’t miss the sharp uneven intake of breath that he took.

Lucius had come in search of Hermione to share his joy at his conversation with Draco. Seeing her sitting in the library, sucking on the end of her quill, had changed his intentions with such rapidity his head had spun, finding another part of his body had taken charge of his thoughts, a very different kind of joy seeping into his senses and controlling his instincts.

“MMM” There was the briefest of hesitant pauses before he continued.

“You took me in that perfect mouth of yours. So exquisitely soft and reassuring.”

Lucius could still feel her warm mouth upon his hard flesh, that glorious feeling he had never enjoyed before.

“But at the same time, so sensual and firm and exceptionally enjoyable”

Lucius felt her lips curve into a smile under the gentle pressure of his finger, any apprehension he had rushing from his body.

If taking Lucius Malfoy in her mouth had been shameless on that very first night, her question now seemed even more so, but Hermione was determined to exploit the uncharacteristic and equally unanticipated mood he seemed to be in. She could have simply asked him what he wanted, but like a lawyer in a courtroom, she decided to rephrase, eagerly awaiting his response, in more ways than one.

He suddenly felt the wetness of her tongue trace the length of his finger, the sensation went from his finger tip to his cock in a split second, his flesh hardening almost instantly.  

 “Is that what you would like now Lucius?”

His brain was still playing catch up. Trying to catch up with how quickly his intentions had changed since walking into the room, trying to catch up with the sensation that had sped from his finger to his groin. Actually, his brain was still trying to catch up with just about everything that had happened since that night in the hotel, since he had become involved with Hermione Granger. Opening his mouth, the single word came out raspingly quickly.

“Yes.”

The sense of empowerment which had previously overtaken Hermione when Lucius had been uncertain about something was gradually altering. He was stronger now, in the short space of time since she had become reacquainted with him, she had seen that change, and it had taken many different forms. From time to time she even saw flickers of the man she knew of old, but something inside Hermione told he would never regress to that evil Death Eater she had once known, if never totally feared.

Lucius Malfoy had always been a powerful and formidable man, both mentally and physically, but the traumas he had suffered to both his mind and his body had weakened both, not to mention what he had inflicted upon himself.  That new-found strength made it possible for Hermione to turn the tables, to empower him. Manipulating him, in a nice way of course; to once again take control, be that powerful and formidable man, but in a very different way. It was just as much fun, and just as enjoyable, if not more so.  As was pushing him way outside of his comfort zone, but only to a place that was perfectly normal and acceptable. A safe place that encouraged and allowed him to be that same powerful and formidable man whilst giving both his mind and his body a very different kind of freedom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks as always for comments and kudos. My apologies as always for any errors you spot that I didn't ;-)


	89. The Real Lucius Malfoy.....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know what's coming.....enjoy......

 

Lucius remembered that night in the hotel with inordinate, blissful clarity. Even the events of the following morning couldn’t diminish his sweet recollections. The warmth of her mouth, the soft touch of her hands, or the simple fact that for the first time in his life, Lucius Malfoy had allowed a woman to take control in any way, let alone sexually.

He no longer had to recollect how her mouth had felt upon his swelling flesh, or how her hands had caressed him. They were once more a heavenly reality. He might have all but asked her to do this now, directed her even, and he loved that in many ways she was still the one very much in control, but somehow it felt very different.  The balance had shifted, exquisitely so; they were both in control now.

As pleasure at her touch coursed through his gloriously aching body, stroking every nerve, Lucius realised back then she had been leading him, encouraging him, just as she had been doing ever since. But as she dropped to her knees before him now, he didn’t seek to quash the feelings of sexual power which seeped into his veins.  Fear and self-loathing had driven them to the back of his mind then, not wanting to allow the darkness of his former life to permeate his mind or distract his body in any way. He had enjoyed a similar feeling in this very room but a few short days ago, but this wasn’t about that sense of domination he had felt then, this was about shared pleasure. His brain finally accepting what his body had been trying to tell him.

A tiny part of him was exhilarated that there was no preamble, he had told Hermione what he wanted, what he needed and without question, hesitation or deviation, she was doing precisely that. Her slender hand had dealt briskly with zipper on his trousers, but she didn’t remove them, then with equal dexterity she freed his hardening cock from its restrictive confines. That perfect mouth of hers taking him, softly and oh so sensually, not usually one for profanity, Lucius had to admit, fuck, it felt good. Just as he had felt her lips curl into a smile beneath his fingertips, Lucius felt the same sensation around his shaft, realising he must have said the appreciative expletive aloud. Her mouth tightened around his flesh drawing him in deeper, this time Lucius couldn’t even muster and expletive, just a low moan of sheer joy as he watched his cock vanish fully into her willing mouth. That perfect mouth which drove him almost insane with hot, sweet pleasure. Previously Lucius’ eyes had been closed, savouring the inexorable delights of her tongue, and the gentle savagery of her sharp teeth. Tightly shut, in case he should open them and find her gone, a dream as vivid as any nightmare he had endured. But today he watched. Her movements and her actions exciting him almost to the point of pain. His cock glistened with his own arousal as well as her saliva, another tiny bead of moisture formed at the tip and he watched utterly transfixed as she gathered it on her tongue before swirling it devilishly around the swollen head. He part hissed, part groaned, his body moving forward of its own volition thrusting himself gently but fully back into the moist cavern. The young witch did not falter, her movements and her actions as rhythmic and accommodating as before.  Her tongue moving sensually over every glossy inch of his shaft.

Lucius’ hands drifted to Hermione’s head, his fingers twining loosely into her hair. He knew he didn’t need to hold head or secure her in any way, but he wanted touch her and it somehow completed the picture.

This time he observed avidly as her head bobbed along his potent erection, the feeling alone was beyond erotic, but watching as she licked and sucked at his throbbing flesh was outside of the realms of any words. Suddenly she released him from her wet mouth, barely catching the tip with her wicked tongue, tilting his flesh as her eyes rose to meet his.

Hermione could see his chest rising and falling, the sounds he made just about as carnal as you could get, she had licked and stroked his flesh enough now to know that she could draw him over the edge with just a few more powerful sucks and laps, his engorged flesh throbbing heatedly in her mouth. She might be once again on her knees before this darkest of wizards, but right now she wielded the power, or rather her mouth did.  She swallowed his cock, her warm brown eyes not leaving his face. She felt her own teeth craze the taut skin, the strangled groan became another uncharacteristic obscenity.

 “Oh fuck!”

Her lips curled around his sheathed flesh in another deliciously satisfied smile.

Hermione’s hands were against the back of his thighs supporting herself and giving her extra purchase, her mouth tightened against the hard ridges and protruding veins, covering her teeth this time as she dragged them from base to tip, sucking hard. Lucius thrust forward powerfully, but she was ready for him, pulling away and sliding back at her own pace, loving the sounds that slipped from him, as they veered between surprise and pleasure. She sucked still harder, the inside of her cheeks humming against his pulsing arousal. A little faster now as her tongue smoothed the underside of his cock, a fresh bead of moisture spilling into her mouth, the taste of him so incredibly erotic. Hermione squeezed her legs together, her own desire for him burning through her, soaking her already damp underwear.  His usually pale face bore a rosy hue, a few tendrils of his sleek hair stuck to his warm cheeks and his darkly clad chest rose and fell rapidly. His breathing was caught between those wantonly carnal sounds, but Hermione wanted to hear his voice. Her eyes were still fixed on him.

Her words vibrated along his cock, as if the feeling wasn’t enough to drive him over the edge, the words themselves pushed him perilously closer.

“What….do……you…...want…. Lucius?”

Each word was enunciated carefully, so it caught his flesh, or blew against his skin. Lucius thought he might just loose it there and then, without uttering a single syllable, but the man in him prevailed, only just.  He knew exactly what Hermione required of him, she’d made him speak to her before, encouraging him to tell her what he wanted, but until this moment he hadn’t realised it was as much for her gratification as his own. Before he had asked, pleaded with her almost, to make him come, something in Hermione’s glittering eyes, something in her vixen like mouth told him, that wasn’t exactly what she wanted to hear, not this time. His breath caught in his throat, coming out as a rasping hiss as she flicked the head of his cock once more with her tantalising tongue, and continued to swirl it around the sensitive tip. He fought for control, his balls tensing unforgivingly in his pants.

“I want to come in your mouth.” His fingers tightening in her hair as he spoke.

This time he told her what he wanted, what he was going to do. There wasn’t a hint of pleading in his tone.

Her eyes sparkled at him as he spoke, her mouth gradually tantalisingly, slipping down his shaft as he finished the sentence.

His balls were so tight against his body they ached, he was so hard he thought he might just burst, and as tongue lapped and sucked its hot, wet way up around his throbbing shaft, he did, almost explosively into her mouth. His eyes uncontrollably closing, blinded by a flash of white pleasured light. She continued so suck and lick as he spurted his thick milky seed over and over into her mouth, stopping only when she knew he was spent, feeling his muscles tighten and relax against her.

Engulfed in the heady afterglow of his shattering orgasm, Lucius’ knees buckled beneath him, dropping him to the floor and bringing him flush against Hermione. His mouth was brutally hard, and deliciously tender at the same time as it covered hers. His tongue prising her lips apart and invading her mouth just as his strong fingers did her wet feminine lips, his hand slipping beneath the soft elastic material of the leggings she wore, invading her silky aroused body so quickly and effectively she cried out in surprised delight into his mouth.  Their teeth smashed together, their tongues duelling in equal demanding passion.  Hermione was utterly robbed of breath, both by his marauding mouth and his intrusive his hand, the two together a lethal combination. His fingers scissored, stretching and filling her as they delved deeper into her sodden desire for him. His thumb tracing the cleft between her legs and brushing against the already overly sensitised bundle of nerves which had been tormented and aroused to their limits.  Her hands came up to the solid wall of his chest in an attempt to steady herself, Lucius caught her hair in his free hand pulling her backwards, the sudden action caused Hermine to gasp, and his tongue took full advantage, delving yet further into the moist cavern beyond, touching everything it could reach.

Lucius could taste the hot slightly bitter, salty essence of his own seed, it was ridiculously erotic and he felt himself stir again, but he wasn’t hard. His fingers mirrored his tongue, it plundered her mouth with ruthless abandon, as they dove harder and faster inside her, she was so wet as they moved back and forth, the scent of her arousal hit his nostrils. He had done this, she writhed and moaned for him, she wanted him.

His fingers were almost frantic as they strove to satisfy her desire, his thumb rubbing mercilessly at the hooded nub, he felt her thighs clamp against his wrist, her inner walls restricting the movement of his fingers as she screamed his name against his own mouth, biting down on his lip as her climax ripped through her body.

“Oh, L..u…c…i…u…s”

The metallic taste of his own blooded melded with the salty taste of his own release, it was as heady as her musky exotically feminine scent which invaded his nostrils, causing him too to moan out loud. He felt her muscles fluttering around his fingers as he withdrew them slowly from her body.

Hermione was breathing heavily, her head now resting against that solid wall of Lucius’ chest. She missed the warmth and intimacy of his fingers as he removed his hand. She certainly hadn’t expected that, any of it.  She felt Lucius move, his fingers came up to her chin, tilting her head to look at him. She smelt her own scent on his fingers, an unexpected blush invaded her face.

Lucius noticed the tiny crimson hue which reddened her already flushed cheeks.

“It’s a rather strange sensation to taste or smell yourself on another human being.”

Hermione couldn’t hide the smile which quirked her lips at his observation. She liked that he now thought nothing of saying such a thing.

“You taste very nice Mister Malfoy.” Hermione licked her lips pointedly, expecting Lucius to flush perhaps at her own remark.

She saw a quirk of surprise in his face, very reminiscent of the man she had first met as a child. A very familiar dark blonde brow rose, clouding his handsome features with haughty arrogance. His beautiful grey eyes however, twinkled with devilment. He relinquished his grasp on her chin, sucking slowly on his thumb, his index finger and finally his forefinger, his grey eyes momentarily fluttering shut, before meeting hers in a penetrating stare.

“And so, do you Miss Granger.”

Ironically Hermione felt her own blush deepen. The real Lucius Malfoy brought out a very feminine almost girlish side of the young witch. He was indeed becoming stronger, and those instincts of which they had spoken of were now being guided by the man, not the Malfoy.

Her gaze once more met Lucius, he was still sucking rather pointedly and rather enjoyably on his fingers, a tiny smile dancing on his lips. Hermione narrowed her gaze at him, noticing the smile diminish to one of consternation. The smile transferred itself to her lips, his features immediately relaxing.

“I really do spend far too much time on the floor in this house.”

Lucius shook his head, his blonde hair tumbling over his shoulders as he shrugged them unison. His voice once more took on that conceited, superior tone as if to admonish Hermione.

“And whose fault is that, I only came in here to tell you about my conversation with Draco.”

Those grey eyes of his shone with a very different kind of emotion, Hermione’s widening in expectation. However, she loved a little verbal sparring with the Lord of the Manor, and wasn’t going to totally take the _blame._

“Oh excuse, me I was just in her catching up some correspondence, before I was so _rudely_ interrupted.”

“I think we might be equally as much to blame then.” Lucius admitted good naturedly.

“Who were you writing to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I don’t as long as you tell me about your conversation with Draco.”

“That seems a very fair exchange Miss Granger, however, maybe we could have the conversation on a normal surface, a chair or sofa perhaps. I am getting a little stiff down here.”

Hermione tried to keep her face straight, but failed miserably, Lucius hadn’t realised his double entendre until it was too late.

“I noticed, but there was nothing little about it.”

Hermione was as sharp a wordsmith as him. Her cheeky retort, this time reaching and flushing the dark wizard’s cheeks. But once again the sound of laughter resonated around the once dark foreboding walls of Malfoy Manor

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My continued thanks for kudos and comments on this. And the usual apologies for the usual :-) Just a little word of "warning" sometimes your comments be they good or bad find themselves in future chapters.....just thought I'd mention that ;-)


	90. Compelling Explanations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well thanks as always my faithful readers for comments and kudos. Apologies as always for any errors, more so this week as I have a new tiny fury distraction. With that said I hope you forgive them and enjoy the chapters as much as usual .......

 

Hermione had caught her hair up in a loose pony tail, her pretty face was still a little flushed as she sat cross legged on the leather sofa, her back leaning against the heavy buttoned arm.

Lucius sat at the opposite end facing her, he felt relaxed and happy, his arm casually rested along the buttoned back. He watched her intently, it was times like this Hermione looked so young, she was so young, she had been at school with his son for Salazar’s sake. Once again, Lucius intended to tell her about his conversation with his son, once again, he found his mind wandering, if perhaps not in quite such a naughty direction this time. He also found himself feeling that same pang of guilt as before, that yet again, his personal life had detracted Hermione from what she had come here to do, the last thing he wanted to do, after everything she was doing for him, was get her into trouble with the Ministry for not doing her job. Where did he start?

“You punched my son on the nose!”

Of all of the things Hermione had expected Lucius to say, this was not one of them. The Dark Wizard’s face was harsh and unreadable, but as always with him, those penetrating and expressive grey blue eyes gave him away. In a very short space of time she had learned to read many of his emotions, but this was the one she undeniably enjoyed the most, well perhaps second most. Hermione saw the amusement sparkling in their depths.

What she did find hard to believe was that this appeared to be a revelation to Lucius Malfoy. Her keen brain however caught up very quickly, realising that Draco had probably shared very little of his school life with his father, especially the bits which involved her, or to be more accurate the bits where she got anything over on him. What she found herself even more curious about, was why he had chosen now to tell his father this particular tale, and the direction the conversation must have taken for him to do so.

“I did.” She confessed, feeling a little bit like she was back at school, seated before the Headmaster, Hermione resisted the urge to add, Sir to the end of the sentence.

She didn’t know exactly how much Draco had said to his father about the incident a good few years ago now, but something told her, the fact that he had admitted it at all, he would have been truthful with him.

“I was going to hex him, he was being utterly hateful.” She continued with equal truthfulness.

“But Ronald Weasley told me not to, that he wasn’t worth it.”

Lucius continued to watch her fixedly, a tiny flicker of dismay ghosting his features at the mention of Ronald Weasley, hardly surprising after his own recent encounters with Arthur’s youngest son.

“I realised he was right, so, I lowered my wand”.

Hermione remembered the encounter with Draco and his cronies as if it were only yesterday, but then it was a particularly memorable afternoon in more ways than one, or maybe that should in in more ways than two. Lucius was riveted. Perhaps his son hadn’t been quite so forthcoming with _all_ of the details.

“Draco smirked at me and as I turned to leave, then he out and out laughed at me.”

She saw Lucius’ brow crinkle with his unasked question.

“So,” She paused momentarily, Lucius look of curiosity intensified.

“I turned and punched him, it felt so good.”

For the second time in a very short period of time Lucius Malfoy’s laughter resonated around the room. Surprising enough as that was, that he was laughing at what she had told him, was even more so. His face became more serious as he spoke once more.

“Draco told me. He also said that you called him foul and evil.”

“Amongst other things.”

Hermione admitted, still a little shocked at just how much of the story Draco had actually recounted to his father, or how much of it he truly remembered.

She silently, but laughingly remembered using Minerva McGonagall’s time turner, meaning she had technically hit him twice, and also had the absolute joy of watching. That really was too good, at the time anyway.

“And he said, you had a point.”

This time it was Hermione’s turn to be shocked. Not only that Draco would confess such a thing at all, but that he would acknowledge as much to his father. Now she really was extremely curious as to how this conversation had come about.

She had left father and son alone in the kitchen, so Lucius could talk to Draco about Rita Skeeter and Narcissa, she wondered how on earth they had got on to talking about this particular incident. In her own mind punching people on the nose, Rita Skeeter and Narcissa Malfoy wasn’t such a giant leap, in fact it was quite an easy connection to make, but she doubted Lucius and Draco had gone down the same route.

“We were rather good at calling each other names and hurling insults back then.”

“Foul and evil, were nothing compared to what I am sure Draco called you.”

Hermione knew exactly where this conversation could ultimately lead, and although she was curious to find out how father and his son had found themselves discussing this particular topic, she would not be drawn down that road…. again.

 “One thing you can always be certain of at school, children will find the most hideous of names to call each other, whoever they are.”

 “Even Ronald Weasley was quite hateful to me during my first term.”

She saw another scowl race across Lucius’ face at the mention of Ronald Weasley and quite probably at the fact that he was beastly to her in any way. The scowl fortunately turned into a small smile.

“You were not afraid to stand up to Draco, or me for that matter, I doubt that Ronald Weasley’s childish insults or inferior magic posed any great _threat.”_

Hermione chuckled at Lucius’ words, even the slur against Ronald’s magical abilities were quite accurate at that particular time, especially with a damaged wand.

“That’s all very true Lucius, but Ronald was just insensitive, he never thought before he spoke, and most of the time he didn’t mean what he said.”

Her brown eyes held Lucius’ darkening grey.

“As a boy, Draco was mean and spiteful, he meant every word of what he said. When I met you, I saw where he’d inherited it from.”

 She’d skated on exceptionally thin ice earlier, when she had been talking to Draco, the ground beneath her feet with his father was much more solid. Their _relationship,_ there was that word again, had very different foundations and very different boundaries. Pushing Lucius and being brutally honest with him, she had discovered, always produced interesting and equally frank results. She had not however expected it to reveal how on earth the two Malfoy men had gotten onto the subject of her right hook.

 “It’s funny Hermione, that is the second time today, our very first meeting has come up. Ironically, it’s what promoted Draco to tell me about you hitting him.”

She feigned surprise and interest in how the topic had arisen, all the while fighting her insatiable curiosity.

“Oh really, I don’t get the connection.”

Hopefully her own poker face was holding, as she noticed the smile on Lucius’ face become rather indulgent, but the amusement in his eyes deepened none the less.

“I was telling Draco how during our conversations.” He indicated Hermione, with a brief movement of his hand.

“You had become prone to telling me off about certain things.”

Surprise, coupled with a small flush lit Hermione’s face.

“That look on your face Hermione, it is very similar to the one on my son’s. He had trouble imagining anyone telling me off, except perhaps you.”

Hermione wasn’t sure if that small flicker of indulgence she had seen in his face, was fatherly or directed at her. Perhaps it was a little of both.

“I replied by saying that you were not frightened to tell me exactly what you thought as a child, and now as a young woman, that hadn’t changed in the slightest.”

Again, it hit home, that this young woman had shared his son’s schooldays, his son’s memories, she had been a part of them after all.  The look on her face at this moment, reminded him of that very afternoon in Flourish and Blotts, that feisty, what was she twelve, thirteen-years-old? Her brown eyes narrowing at him, her lip set in a thin determined line.

“I do not tell you off…... I wouldn’t dare.”

This time Lucius practically snorted with laughter, it was an even more unexpected sound.

“You wouldn’t dare!” The incredulity in Lucius Malfoy’s face was as evident as that in his voice.

“Aside from telling me…...explaining things compellingly to me” Lucius straightened his face.

“You have to my knowledge, stood up to the Dark Lord, my wife, and Rita Skeeter, as well as my own son on more than one occasion. Also from what Draco tells me, Severus Snape.”

His face was completely serious now, a different kind of emotion sparkling in his eyes.

“I think you would very much dare my dear Hermione, and I wouldn’t want you to ever change that.”

Hermione was again reeling in amazement, not only at Lucius words, and the heartfelt plea they grown into, but that Draco, it appeared had also shared other tales from their time together at Hogwarts. She really did dread to think what he had told his father about her and the irascible Professor.  She hadn’t left them alone for that long, but it seemed one or other, or possibly both of them was making up for lost time, maybe wanted to strike whilst the iron was hot, or they lost their nerve, which if it had been Draco doing the running, that would certainly have been the case.

She was torn between wanting to assure Lucius, when it came to him, she would never change. That reassurance was on so many levels these days, some of which she had only recently come to realise; and wanting to delve more into the conversation he’d had with Draco. That annoying little voice that popped up from time in the back of her head reminded her of her own assumptions, making up for lost time, striking whilst the iron was hot, losing one’s nerve. They could all quite easily apply to her right at this moment.

This day was taking some very odd twists and turns and at an alarming rate of knots. Hermione reigned in both her emotions and her curiosity, trying to maintain her usual air of calm and maybe just a modicum of professionalism, it was still lurking in their somewhere.  

Lucius wasn’t going anywhere and he seemed more than happy to just sit here and talk, and in all honesty so was she, it felt good, it felt comfortable and above all else it felt right. And it was after all what she was supposed to be here to do, if not exactly in this manner.  Thinking about it, it was actually the first time they had sat down in this way and just talked, more often than not their conversations revolved around some pretty intense sexual activity, this was maybe not so far removed from that, but now it really was just conversation.

“I promise I won’t change Lucius. Being honest and _daring_ with you, is more interesting and much more _satisfying.”_

Hermione valued the sincerity in Lucius’ words but at the same time she didn’t want to lose the happy relaxed man who had sat down on the sofa next to here. She knew her own little play on words would not go unnoticed or unappreciated.

“As for standing up to those people, I am not sure who was the more daunting.

Lucius viewed her with a quizzical look.

“Lord Voldemort or Rita Skeeter.”

She shook her head as if trying to decide, watching Lucius carefully. Never would she have imagined there would come a time she would be able to joke about Lord Voldemort with the man who had once been at his side, she might even be testing her luck just a little bit now, but she could take the fallout, she could handle him and she was there for him. Hermione never forgot, whatever the situation that she was here to help Lucius, as she had told Draco, that came in many forms. Pushing him as she often did might seem a little harsh, even a little dangerous at times, but it had to be done, for his own sake.

Lucius face clouded, his eyes became dark and a look of unrestrained disgust moved across his handsome features. Hermione chewed her bottom lip, regret instantly flooding her body, she truly hadn’t wanted to upset him, maybe this had been poor judgement on her part, a push a little too far.

“Until yesterday I would have said without hesitation or a second thought the Dark Lord, but now I am not so sure.”

If Hermione had never imaged a time when she herself could joke about Lord Voldemort, she had certainly never imagined a day would come when Lucius Malfoy could do so. She took advantage of his good humour, continuing to push him just a little bit more as always.

“Perhaps…. IF, I dared……explain…. things compelling to you.”

Hermione smiled mischievously as a challengingly defiant dark blonde brow rose at her choice of words.

“ _I_ would say you were the most daunting of them all.”

Challenge and defiance, changed to scepticism, his tone of voice reflecting his face.

“You would have me believe that I am more fearsome to you than the Dark Lord?”

A decidedly cynical expression settled on Lucius’ face. He was well aware of Hermione’s promise to always be truthful with him, he was at a loss to understand why she would deviate from that now, even if it was quite possibly only in jest.

Hermione really didn’t need to be skilled in any form of legilimency with Lucius, she had learned to read his face like a book, knowing just what was going on in that mind of his.

“You think I am lying to you Lucius?”

She appeared affronted by his words, purposefully waiting for him to respond, this time daring him to say yes.

He shifted a little uneasily, it hadn’t been so very long ago that Lucius had mentally made a very similar comparison himself, likening the young witch’s power and formidability to that of the Dark Lord also. But hearing her say it aloud and about him confounded him, how in Salazar’s name could she think that of him? After how he had ended up, shamed, imprisoned, cast out. He suddenly felt another pang of guilt, this time at his own doubt in her, that he thought she was being less than truthful with him, he didn’t want to fuel her displeasure, but surely, she could not be serious. Lucius cunningly adopted Hermione’s tactic, hopefully alleviating her disapproval.

“I have to confess I would be a tad upset if you did not find me more intimidating than Narcissa. As for the loathsome Rita Skeeter, daunting is not the word I would use to describe her. But frankly, I do find it hard to believe that you would find me more formidable than Lord Voldemort.”

Lucius saw a very familiar and equally as intimidating streak of defiance flare in Hermione’s brown eyes. He had the distinct impression, he was about to find out exactly why Hermione believed him to be precisely that. Insinuating that she had perhaps been less than truthful with him, really had not have been his wisest move.

“Well Lucius logistically speaking, as a Muggle saying goes, you are still here to tell the tale. However, you might have achieved that, it puts you one step ahead already.”

Lucius nodded, it was a valid point and one he could definitely not dispute. The fact that he was still here, living and breathing, to tell the tale, as she put it, might be a little ambiguous, but personally he felt it had nothing to do with his formidability.

“Remember I am speaking from a personal perspective.”

Lucius again nodded, but was still unconvinced.

“Rita Skeeter I have unfortunately had dealings with before, but that is another story entirely. She is not at all daunting, not in the regular sense of the word. As you say there are many other words to describe that awful woman. She is just the person you don’t want to have to deal with in any kind of way.”

Lucius understood that reasoning only too well, Rita Skeeter might not be any match for him or Hermione, but she wasn’t someone you wanted to find yourself pitted against under any circumstances.

“As for Mrs Malfoy.” She noticed the flaring of his nostrils but continued undeterred.

“She was frightening, but in a different kind of way. She had, has the power of hurting both you and Draco, so one needs to tread carefully, in order, others are not caught in the crossfire. But in other respects, no, she was not in all honestly someone I would find intimidating.”

Lucius found despite himself he was intrigued and strangely looking forward to just how Hermione was going to validate her declaration, personal or otherwise.

“Voldemort was what he was. He never pretended to be anything different. What he wanted and what he intended to do, he never disguised his aims, they weren’t in dispute.  You could see exactly what he was simply by looking at him. He was a cunning, vile serpent, a deluded man, shrouded in pure evil.”

Lucius felt an icy chill ebb through his blood at Hermione’s graphic but accurate description of the man he had once revered, once sought to stand alongside. The bitter taste of nausea rose in his throat and horror gripped his bones. How could Hermione think him more frightening than that?

Once again Hermione knew where that pale look of revulsion on Lucius’ face had taken him. So much for not upsetting him, keeping him relaxed and happy, she fought her guilt and continued.

“But you …...” Her slim hand reached out and touched his leg in her usual reassuring way.

“Fear and wariness of you comes from a much more perilous place. It comes from the not knowing, from uncertainty.  It lurks behind a very well-crafted facade, not knowing what you are getting, uncertain of what you are dealing with. That Lucius Malfoy is what makes you a far more powerful and incredibly dangerous adversary.”

Along with her gentle touch she gave him a small smile, reiterating both of their original points.

“Don’t forget Lucius, we are talking about me. You doubted me, you doubted why I thought you were the most formidable person I had stood up against.”

“Perhaps I should have chosen my words a little more carefully.” He ventured, his mouth suddenly very dry.

“Perhaps……but I promised you the truth, always and I will never detract from that promise. My words are not meant detrimentally, I can assure you of that.  Standing up to you as a child, it gave me courage to stand up to others, your own son amongst them.  You were the scariest person I knew. But you were different, you were Draco’s father, you worked at the Ministry of Magic, so you were respectable and in some quarters highly respected, it made you acceptable, if not particularly well liked.”

She maintained her honesty and her forthrightness just as she promised.

“When we met again recently, so much had changed, for all of us, but despite all of that, you were still Lucius Malfoy, a former Death Eater, so just how much had you really changed? Behind those good looks, those beautiful piercing grey eyes, what were you really hiding? Were you perhaps still that same person, everything concealed under that impeccably tailored cloak of respectability you wore? I had absolutely no idea. That made you incredibly scary and a very daunting adversary, which at the time I still saw you as.”

Lucius mouth twitched, he couldn’t help it. She always made him see things from a different perspective, sometimes even with humour.

“ _But despite all of that_ you still agreed to have dinner with me?”

“In a very public place.” Hermione countered with the same amused tone.

“True. Our lunch the following day was also in a very public, very Muggle place, but despite being your most formidable adversary, you still _dared_ to come to my hotel room. Who knew what I could have been hiding behind that _façade, that tailored cloak of respectability?”_

Hermione’s smile broadened, it was a dangerous picture Lucius had painted, and so very true but she liked it. Had she truly had any doubts about Lucius, she wouldn’t have gone to his hotel room, would she?  The little devil also reminded her, he was hiding considerably more under that _well-tailored cloak,_ but on this occasions she refrained from making the remark, outright…….

“Like I said Lucius being daring and honest with you is much more fun, and much more satisfying.”

She caught the twinkle in his eyes, her words weren’t actually meant as a double entendre but of course the inference was there.

“I don’t know why exactly, but I knew practically from our first drink, that you were no longer hiding behind anything, not from me anyway. Oh, don’t get me wrong, personally I would still count you as incredibly formidable and extremely daunting, but I no longer think of you as an adversary.”

Lucius hand covered Hermione’s as it still rested against his leg.

“It’s strange, Draco said something similar earlier, that it was nice having you on our side, being able to call you a friend.”

Hermione found herself flushing once more at the uncharacteristic compliments from both father and son. She was getting the distinct impression that Lucius and Draco had spent all of their time talking about her, gradually their conversation was unravelling, even if it was in a rather unconventional way.

“Ironically it was actually, how we got on to the subject of you telling me off… sorry explaining things compellingly.”

This time Hermione didn’t feign her interest, it was overwhelming.

“Oh…..?”

“Draco said that neither he nor I deserved that you were our friend, or that you were here in this house. At which point I imparted to Draco that if, I’d said that to you, I would be on the receiving end of a serious ticking off. We got to talking about how you weren’t afraid to give either of us a piece of your mind, and well, you can see where the conversation went.”

“I can.” The conversation had taken yet another turn, this time back to its original place.

“To tales of me punching Draco on the nose, and it would seem of Professor Snape.”

Lucius, it appeared was more than happy and quite eager to relate his conversation with his son.

“Ah now that came about, when we were talking about you always being right.”

Hermione found herself trying to be affronted by Lucius comment, but laughing instead, it came out as a rather unladylike snort.

“Draco asked me earlier if I didn’t get sick of always being right.”

There was shared laughter once more.

“He told me Severus called you an insufferable know it all and deducted house points.”

Hermione’s free hand flew to her face in embarrassment.

“Merlin’s teeth, I cannot believe he told you that or that he would even remember it. There are distinct disadvantages to being at school with your lover’s son.”

The words were out before she could censor them and Hermione bit her lip, continuing to hide her face behind her hand. She wished she had left her hair free, needing it to conceal her mortification.

 

 

 

 


	91. Touché, Miss Granger....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So obviously in conclusion to the "cliffhanger"........

 

Hiding behind her hand with her eyes squeezed tightly shut, Hermione held her breath. She was totally unprepared for the sound of yet more, if this time subtler laughter. A shocked and sudden intake of breath, an equally surprised gasp, yes, but laughter, definitely not. She viewed Lucius carefully between her the fingers which splayed across her flushed face. She could clearly see, it was genuine amusement once more, there was nothing false about it, and it didn’t appear to be covering any nervousness, his eyes were sparkling, even his shoulders were shaking gently. He finally fixed those sparkling eyes on Hermione.

“I never looked at it like that before.” Humour still laced his aristocratic tones.

“So many times, I have looked at you and thought how young you are, that it might be an issue in some way. The things which have gone through my mind, I don’t think even you would believe. And here you reduce it to the embarrassing tales might my son might tell on you.”

Hermione wasn’t sure whether to be relieved, terrified or annoyed by Lucius reaction, all three seemed to be vying equally for first place. He didn’t seem in the slightest bit perturbed by her choice of words. Perhaps he hadn’t heard it, no that was just silly of course he had. Maybe he’d thought it a slip of the tongue and not taken any notice. Or worse, maybe he’d not liked it and had simply chosen to ignore it rather than say anything at all.  Her brain was still trying to decide which one it was when the Dark Wizard spoke again, an air of delight still touched his voice, but there was a hint of solemnity in those clipped tones too.

“I must see what else I can wheedle out of him about my young lover.”

Steely grey clashed with astonished warm brown, his large hand tightening over her much smaller one as it rested against his leg. The shocked intake of breath, it turned out, came from Hermione at his acknowledgement of her words.

Almost every word that she had said before and after that point had blurred in Lucius mind. She called him her lover, by definition, sexually at least, that was precisely what he was. Everything else that they shared was because of her work, was why she was here, wasn’t it?

Unless Lucius commented on it now, said something at this moment, how could he know, how could he be sure if it was anything more for her. The more time he spent with Hermione, the more they shared, but it was all borne of his past, it why was she was here, and what she had come here to talk to him about. But because of that time he had spent with her, because of those profound conversations they’d had, he felt sure she was not the sort of person to indulge in a casual sexual relationship of any kind. The constant questioning and self-doubt rose in his body once more. Supposing he was totally wrong and she did just want to enjoy something casual while she was here, he could not blame her, nor could he judge her. As an adult, he had willingly gone along with and encouraged the situation.  The coward in him couldn’t bring himself to speak of it, until now that was, could he be the man that both she and his son thought him to be. Nerves and insecurity still tore at his body like some deranged werewolf, maybe she did just want……

“I like that you called me your lover.” Lucius heard the words, unable to equate that he had spoken them. His face and his tone taking on a boyish uncertain hue.

 

This day had taken yet another very unexpected and dramatic turn. A sudden realisation of her own feelings and now this from the man himself. The seriousness in his face and in his voice, the hand which clasped hers so tightly, meant she couldn’t play either of them down, nor would she. But just as she had worried herself before, Hermione did not want to rush headlong in and possibly make more of it than perhaps it actually was. They had simply referred to each other as lovers, it was hardly ground breaking, it wasn’t great declarations of anything. But as Hermione had come to realise about many things, in the world of Lucius Malfoy, it could be deemed _huge. S_ he aired on the side of caution, but with her usual brutal honesty.

“Well it’s what you are, and it’s a nice word to call you.”

Hermione had developed an odd sixth sense when it came to Lucius Malfoy, she felt it now, knowing he knew what he wanted to say, but wasn’t entirely sure how to. Strange for a man so comfortable with words, someone so eloquent.

“It makes me feel that whilst your being here is about your work, our _relationship_ isn’t just about that.”

His words were cagey, even to his own ears they sounded a little offensive, he didn’t mean them to be. He was not sure how much to say, and at the same time did not want to overstep the mark, he’d come this far but now he was floundering.

Whilst his words were not as fluent as usual, Hermione knew exactly what he meant, clearly Lucius needed a little reminder and a forthright one at that.

“Lucius, we enjoyed an all be it brief sexual encounter well before you ever agreed to get involved with my work. But, you being my lover was _never_ about my work. I suppose it might feel a little that way as we gravitated towards it once I came here, the two kind of melded together when I agreed to sleep in your bed. But it’s not the reason why I agreed to.”

She searched his face looking for some kind of recognition, some kind of acceptance.

“Initially, I agreed to have dinner with you because I was intrigued that you of all people were interested in talking to me.”

She saw the briefest hint of a frown creases Lucius’ brow.

“Admittedly that might have been a little to do with the work I did. But I certainly didn’t end up in your bed because of it. I had lunch with you the next day because I wanted to, I found myself attracted to you. I think I all but seduced you Lucius, there was nothing professional about that or my actions.”

She offered him an encouraging smile, Lucius eyes still held her own, she saw echoes of fear lurking in their steely depths.

“It gives me hope.”

Hermione was reminded of his words to her before, about her giving him hope and her heart skipped a beat.

“That when we have exhausted our conversations about my past and I can no longer give you insight, you might still sleep in my bed.”

His tone was firm, but it still held that boyish apprehension, as did his face.

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure what Lucius was asking of her, did he want her to remain here at the Manor, after her supposed Ministry work was done, or did he simply want their relationship to continue in some way? She quite liked the idea of both. After realising her own feelings today and her advice to Draco about his relationship with Astoria, Hermione knew she had to be honest with herself and of course Lucius. Brutal honesty might not be the way to go this time, a measure of subtlety was required.

“I had rather hoped myself that our conversations might not be exhausted, just that the topics might change, that you would continue to enjoy talking to me, maybe about less contentious and stressful things. As for your insight… a man of your experience and knowledge would never be short of that and would enjoy sharing all sort of things with someone a lot less experienced and knowledgeable.”

Lucius viewed her with a joyous but wry smile.

“My dear Hermione, I might be considerably older than you, but I certainly wouldn’t describe you as less knowledgeable. As for less experienced, what you have seen and done is easily a match for my own. And…well let us just say you have undoubtedly taught me a thing or two in more ways than one.”

Heat once more found its way to her cheeks, a guilty smile curving her mouth.

“Draco said earlier.”

Hermione looked warily at him, dreading to think what Lucius was going to impart this time, but she saw a seriousness in his face and she knew it was not another tale of Hogwarts long ago, of mean potions masters or childish spite.

“That we should not dwell on the reasons that brought you here, to us, we should just be grateful that you are here.”

Hermione found herself a little impressed with such words of wisdom from the younger Malfoy, he had certainly not demonstrated a flair for such verbal alacrity earlier on, it had been quite the opposite. At the same time a little frisson of anxiety rushed through Hermione’s blood, wondering if Lucius was more aware of why she was here than he was letting on.

“That’s a strange thing to say, what prompted it.” She hoped she wasn’t sounding too obvious or too inquisitive.

Lucius was no longer floundering with his words or with his feelings, her own forthright assurances had given him new founded confidence. She wasn’t repulsed or shocked, well maybe perhaps a little shocked, but he was certain that came from his admission rather than the content of it. He happily relayed yet more of his conversation with Draco to Hermione, it was after all thanks to her that he’d been able to talk to his son in this way at all, it was also what he had originally come into this room to do, although that all seemed a very long time ago now.

“I was thanking whatever good fortune brought you to this house and I said I would never have called my time in Azkaban or my association with the Dark Lord good fortune, but they are what brought you back into this house, so in certain ways they were precisely that.”

Clearly Lucius had no idea about Draco’s part in her being here or why she was actually here. The little frisson of anxiety was replaced by a larger one of guilt, that in some ways she was deceiving Lucius, she wasn’t being as entirely truthful as she had promised to be. That really was something she would have to think about at another time. She brought herself back to the present.

“Hmm I am not sure I would have put it quite like that, but I see what you mean and it does have an element of truth. That and of course my stubborn streak.”

A quizzical look was back on Lucius’ face.

“You kicked me out of your hotel room, I wasn’t letting you off that easily, remember.”

“I remember it very well, _you played me_.” His accusatory tone softened guiltily.

“But I too have a confession to make Hermione.”

She listened keenly.

“Whilst my intentions for you being in this house were strictly honourable. My motives for allowing you come here, to talk to me, they were not entirely above board either.”

Hermione was torn between playing her poker face, or letting Lucius know just how well she had come to know him. She was bored with the former, the latter was proving to be much more fun, provoking a much better response from the Dark Wizard.

“I think we are quite possibly even on that score Lucius, I didn’t want that first night to be our last, I didn’t want you to just walk away from me so I wrangled an invitation into your home. And you… you wanted to get back in the Ministry of Magic’s good books, so you agreed to meet with me and talk to me, in the hope that doing so would aid that. In Muggle tennis that would be deuce. I think perhaps that whilst we can safely say that my being here, that our being lovers is not because of my work, it has certainly proved a good excuse or a useful tool.”

That he had fooled Hermione for one moment with his intentions was of course utterly ridiculous. She was indeed a very worthy and very formidable adversary herself, and he stood by his silent belief that in her own way Hermione Granger was every bit as powerful as the Dark Lord. With her however, the enjoyment was inexorable.  

“I think perhaps Severus Snape was quite right about you.”

Hermione wrinkled her nose at Lucius, knowing full well by that glorious twinkle in his eyes and the slight twitching of his sensual mouth that he was teasing her. The knowledge that he felt at ease enough to do that, gave Hermione a very satisfied professional feeling, and an equally a warm and satisfied personal feeling.

“In fencing terms that would be touché Miss Granger.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very different apology this week, for leaving you with a cliffhanger, on this occasion it was unintentional but I loved that you thought it wasn't.......that said usual apology for any mistakes, and as ever thanks for your support and kind words of this story.


	92. Owls En Masse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey peeps, thanks as always for lovely comments etc, you are all too kind. Usual housekeeping applies.
> 
> I know this story has revolved mostly around a certain set of parameters and people with not a lot of outside influences, but there are some of those outside influences coming up which you may or may not thank me for...the owls bring forth wind of those...enjoy...

 

Hermione’s three owls, which she _eventually_ managed to finish writing were replied to in surprisingly rapid succession. It was the one from the Minister of Magic which arrived first, and it found her enjoying the midmorning sunshine and the proverbial cup of tea in Narcissa’s former sitting room. Kauno and Isa, were at her feet, their master having left the Manor a short while ago to organise and sign some papers at Gringotts. As for Draco, she hadn’t seen him at all this morning, imaging he was enjoying a lie in, after his _energetic_ weekend and his equally hectic day yesterday.  Even after her own conversation with Lucius yesterday, it was still an odd sensation, feeling quite so at home in this house, a house she had once hated. Now after barely a week she wandered around with its Master’s dogs at her heel, she cooked in the kitchen, and frequently made tea, still much to the horror of the house elves. But she still only went in the rooms she knew, which was about the number in a normal house, she had never been told anywhere was off limits, in fact it was very much the opposite, but she was a guest in Lucius and Draco’s home and as such, she would respect that.

Hermione was surprised it was Kingsley Shacklebolt’s note which found its way to her so quickly, feeling certain he must have quite literally just returned from his visit to MACUSA.

_My Dear Hermione_

_How lovely to arrive back to a note from you, no matter how brief. I shall keep my response the same in the hope that we will be able to catch in person very soon, where you can entertain me with a blow by blow account of yours and Lucius’ meeting with Rita Skeeter._

Hermione could almost see Kingsley Shacklebolt’s dark gleeful features as she read on.

_So glad you approved of my precautions. I think, having seen the article, they, along with my editorial rights, have served their purpose, and I have given me permission for it to be published this coming Friday._

_I must congratulate both yourself and Lucius, please pass on my sentiments to him. Even written by a reporter of Miss Skeeter’s dubious merits it reads very well and I think as you intended. There is of course the odd word or phrase which I could have objected to, but I did not want to seem overly fastidious._

Kingsley Shacklebolt fastidious, perish the thought, Hermione smiled, she could however imagine exactly what he meant, Rita Skeeter trying her best to put her own slant on the article, but as the Minister said he did not want to appear too picky. Her smile broadened at his written acclaim, more for Lucius than herself. Without sounding conceited, she was used to his kind words and commendations, but for Lucius Malfoy it would come as high praise indeed, and she would very much enjoy passing on the Minister’s sentiments.

_However, knowing both Ms Skeeter and the equally devious Editor of hers I have taken further safeguards to ensure that the article is not altered in any way prior to publication._

Hermione nodded her head in silent agreement, knowing herself there was no low Rita Skeeter would not stoop to. Changing the interview after Kingsley had given it his approval would certainly not be beyond her.

_As I said my dear, I look forward to hearing all about it very soon, perhaps Lucius might like to join you. It won’t hurt him to be seen at the Mistry again, especially not with us._

It was signed with his usual flourish and his Ministry of Magic seal. Hermione’s face almost split in two. Kingsley Shacklebolt could be as wily as she could, and she had a feeling, a very distinct feeling that he had more in mind than, conversation and cauldron cakes with her and Lucius.

Her brain was still reeling from Kingsley’s words when a second owl tapped on the French door, a slightly less graceful creature which landed awkwardly against the paned glass. This had to be a Weasley owl, they had a predilection to being less than elegant. Kauno had raised his head irritably at being disturbed once more, Isa sleeping on soundly through the kafuffle. Hermione patted the soft fur, reassuring him just as she did his Master, those big brown eyes closed once more and returned to sleep.

_Dearest Hermione_

_Lovely to receive your note, I don’t very often get unrelated work owls, save the odd howler from Molly._

Even in his written words Hermione detected a resigned but amused tone, recalling just how prone Molly Weasley was to sending a howler. Their second year at Hogwarts, a similarly clumsy bird had landed in their breakfast prior to delivering one of the scathing notes to Ronald, after he and Harry had stolen a car from Mr Weasley. She could still hear Molly Weasley’s screeching voice now, the angry missive blowing a raspberry at her son before shredding itself. Arthur Weasley’s note to Hermione was obviously much nicer.

_Even lovelier to have bumped into you at the Ministry, as you say it was a shame we couldn’t chat longer, but probably just as well. We both know what Ronald is like when it comes to the Malfoy’s, bit too early on a Monday morning for any sort of shenanigans, or my son getting himself into any more bother._

Obviously, she hadn’t been the only one thinking along those lines and it would appear she knew the youngest Weasley son as well as his father.

_Appreciate that it’s a bit short notice, but Molly has managed to get all of the family together for lunch on Saturday, Harry is joining us too, so if you are free we would all love to see you. Just let one of us know if you can make it._

_Hopefully see you Saturday._

_All the best_

_Arthur Weasley_

Hermione was still pondering Arthur Weasley’ note and invitation when the third owl arrived.

_Hey Hermione_

_Hope you’re ok, not sure where you are at the minute, but I know this will find you wherever you have buried yourself._

Hermione felt that familiar flush of nervous heat course through her body, just how would Harry and anyone else for that matter, react, if they knew where her _work_ taken her this time? That she was currently residing at Malfoy Manor, although she doubted it would be long before they realised exactly _where her work had taken her and where she buried herself._

_Ginny flued me earlier and said we’d been invited to the Burrow for lunch on Saturday and that you’d been invited too, really hope you can make it, would be great to see you and not just at work. We might even find five minutes to catch up on what you’ve been up to lately._

Well if she felt so inclined, it would certainly take a lot longer than five minutes to explain what she had been up to lately. Following, Lucius and Harry’s meeting at the Ministry on Monday, she had very briefly mentioned the older wizard in her note to her old school friend, but only in a very generic way.  Seeing him face to face, it might not be so easy to avoid the subject, especially as the article in the Daily Prophet would have hit the newsstands by then. Whilst not a big fan of the paper, and even less so of the poison penned reporter, Hermione knew Harry kept a close eye on what was printed. He’d had fallen fowl of that quick quill himself and as an Auror made it his business to keep an eye out for scurrilous tales or the merest hint that anything was amiss.

Lunch with the entire Weasley clan and Harry, just the day after the interview was published in the Daily Prophet, was that really such a good idea? She supposed she would have to face them all at some point, explain herself, as she knew she would have to. Might as well do it in one go, get it over and done with, if only it were going to be that simple.

She rose from her favourite chair overlooking the gardens, her favourite chair, how strange did that sound? Nothing had changed since her slip up yesterday, and the enlightening conversation that had ensued with Lucius, it really didn’t need to, except that they both now knew this was more than just _work_ or Hermione helping Lucius. Even with his son in the house, Lucius had insisted Hermione sleep with him, assuring the worried young witch that his son would be totally oblivious, that if he could sleep through some of the parties that had been held in the Manor, and through some of Lucius’ more graphic nightmares, any noise they might make would certainly not disturb him, or arouse his suspicions. The silencing charm the younger Malfoy had around his room, had been a revelation to his father, prompting Lucius to remark that it worked both ways, but not, unfortunately that his son would need to keep any sounds of enjoyment quiet. Hermione said nothing, that was not a confidence she intended breaking.

Stretching her neck, gathering up her letters and sending her tea cup to the kitchen, Hermione headed towards the library to reply to them. Might as well strike whilst that proverbial iron was still hot, and she still had her nerve. It would also pass the time whilst Lucius was gone, Hermione found herself missing the dark wizard, even if they were not together, she felt his presence, just as right now she felt the lack of it. Kauno and Isa were immediately up on their feet and close at her heels, smiling she patted their silky heads and moved towards the library.  A fourth owl, was waiting on the heavy wooden table. That it had been allowed into the house and stood regally and somewhat arrogantly, on the table meant it was a family bird, a small frisson of anxiety crept in to Hermione’s bones, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or more anxious when she recognised Draco’s spidery scrawl across the front of the pale parchment. Obviously, the younger Malfoy was not enjoying a lie in, unless of course he was being ridiculously lazy, and owling her from his room. No even for Draco that was just too much.

_Hey Granger_

_Was going to speak to you before I left, but I got side tracked. Just wanted to let you know I am going to take you up on your offer and your suggestion._

For a moment Hermione was completely thrown, what on earth was Draco talking about, so much had happened the previous day, she had been overtaken by events, and revelations. But as she read on all became clear and she remembered their own conversation.

_I’m of to meet Astoria, we are having dinner with some other friends this evening, and am going to invite them to the Manor for lunch, hence how I got side tracked this morning with father. He is quite amicable with the invitation but I haven’t told him about Astoria yet. I’m sure he will tell you but well just wanted you to give you a heads up._

Miraculously Hermione managed to read Draco’s slightly less scribbled than usual note. Well this week was certainly turning into a broomstick ride of twists and turns and with the article about to appear in the Daily Prophet she had a feeling the ride was going to get decidedly bumpy as well. Draco had obviously taken his father at his word quite literally, waiting until after the article was published to invite his friends, but only just.  That aside she had to laugh out loud at Draco’s signing off of his note.

_See you later (maybe) D_

She could almost see the glint in his blue eyes, but It wasn’t even so much the “maybe” which made her smile, it was his informal and friendly sign off, as if they were the best of friends and always had been.

She wasn’t sure which friendship, which relationship surprised her the most. Save a handful of very scant encounters, mostly which had revolved around Harry, the young which had had very little to do with Lucius Malfoy, until now that was. Their relationship had become very intense, very quickly. The trust which had come with it had be born very much from the sexual aspect. Draco was a Hippogriff of a very different colour. She had spent six years at school with him, they had all but grown up together, they had grown up hating each other. The friendship they now had was born of very different foundations, the trust between them had been gradually built and earned very differently. In many ways, Draco’s hatred and his prejudices were a lot more difficult to overcome, perhaps it was because of all those years they had spent together, hating each other. But somehow, they seemed to have done it, almost without even realising it. Just as she and Lucius had gravitated towards that incredibly intense sexual relationship, she and Draco had gravitated towards a remarkably easy friendship. She wasn’t sure either man would appreciate her observation, but in many ways, Draco was a lot like Harry, as the younger Malfoy had changed and matured that was a lot more evident and she could see the parallels in their lives.

What surprised Hermione more than either her easy friendship with Draco, or the intense relationship she now had with his father, was just how easily she had slotted in to both of their lives and into their home. She realised a bumpy broomstick ride on the back of the article about to hit the Daily Prophet columns would be nothing compared to the bareback dragon ride that would ensue if her relationship with Lucius became public knowledge.              

 


	93. FrontPageNews

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well as always my heartfelt thanks for your lovely comments and kudos. As always my apologies for any faux pas. I will also take this opportunity to say something else. Which may or may not annoy some. I am a bit naughty because as I love both the HP books and films, I don't tend to stick with one or the other, I cherry pick ...I hope you wont hold that against me and that you continue to enjoy the story simply for what it is. I will also apologise in advance for any poor journalistic skills on my part...

 

Hermione was looking attentively at Lucius Malfoy, her line of vision all too obvious as she took in the tall handsome man standing before her. His limpid grey eyes were holding her own warm brown with a lingering, almost passionate intensity. Her fingers were elegantly but firmly clasped in his, and were raised to his mouth, his lips brushing over the soft skin on the back of her hand.

The acute angle of the picture didn’t miss a single nuance. Even in black and white, Hermione could feel those beautiful grey eyes boring into her, could still feel the soft sensuality of his warm pink lips. It replayed over and over before her, the moment repeating over and over in her mind. The picture had obviously been one of the many taken at the Ministry of Magic event, back in February and had been developed using the special solution potion which allowed the picture to move. The headline above the photograph, emblazoned on the front page of Daily Prophet in enormous black typeset screamed “ ** _Hermione Granger and Lucius Malfoy Together”_**.

Hermione’s heart should have sunk, her temper should have shot of the scale. Oddly she found herself suffering neither reaction, instead a mischievous smile spread across her face, a strange little buzz of devilment danced in her brain, and a warm sensation seeped into her veins. Admittedly, she was a tiny bit miffed that the headline did not reflect the article itself correctly, but she knew there was no way that either Rita Skeeter or her editor could have circumvented Kingsley Shacklebolt stringent censorship or the safeguards he had put in place for any attempts at alteration.

The idea of the sensationalising headline and the careful use of the supposedly _shocking_ picture were clearly to boost sales, grab people’s attention and make them read the article. Hermione had no issues whatsoever with any of that, it was after all, precisely the point, exactly what she had been hoping for. Rita Skeeter, in her attempt at get one over on Hermione, nastily reiterate her point about the young witch’s penchant for celebrity wizards, and reduce the article to her own brand of gutter press, had in fact played right into the younger woman’s hands. Who wasn’t going to want to read the article, with a headline like that? Oh, they might be sorely disappointed at the content, they might be angry at the headline itself and find they simply had to read on, just to find out what exactly, “O _ne third of the golden trio, and newly appointed, Ministry of Magic’s_ _Head of Wizard Welfare & Rehabilitation, Hermione Granger was doing with former inmate of Azkaban and ex Death Eater Lucius Malfoy”_ but that really was the idea. If it lured them in, compelled them to buy the newspaper and read the article, find out the truth, then so be it. The picture had not been doctored in any way, Lucius Malfoy had indeed taken and kissed her hand most chivalrously at a very public event, a very high profile Ministry of Magic event. She could not argue with headline, she and Lucius were indeed together, just as the pictured depicted, publicly in the actual definition of the word, together, making polite conversation, and in private, together, in every sense of the word. As for the opening, attention grabbing paragraph, as long as the readers actually discovered what she _was_ doing with Lucius Malfoy, from the Ministry of Magic’s standpoint at least, and it changed their perception of him, for once she really didn’t care how the scurrilous reporter had worded it.

Hermione pictured Rita Skeeter, feeling pretty damned pleased with her blonde self. Those red bee stung lips of hers wearing an incredibly self-satisfied smirk, at how she had outwitted both the _foolish_ Minister of Magic and his censorship, and his irritating little Miss Perfect. How even without the use of her quick quotes quill, she had managed to write such an eye-catching headline. It was Hermione who felt pretty damned pleased with herself. Rita Skeeter had put herself nicely into the jar this time and it was the young witch who wore a self-satisfied smirk as she continued to read the article.

“In Salazar’s name!”

The heavy wooden door to the kitchen flew open, slamming and clattering against the wall, the house elves busily preparing breakfast scattered, their eyes wider than ever in fear. Even Kauno and Isa sat up at the sound of their master’s angry tones, Hermione jumped at the sudden loud sound, her eyes sparkling in surprise and amusement as they met Lucius’.

Lucius’ anger and exasperation were quelled almost instantly as he caught site of the grin spread across Hermione’s face, it certainly wasn’t what he had been expecting. For a moment, he wondered if perhaps she was reading something else, but no it was definitely the Daily Prophet. Had he missed something?

Hermione had gotten used to the fact that two copies of the paper were delivered to Malfoy Manor, originally it had been when Narcissa had been here, apparently, Lucius liked to read a pristine, unread copy and take his time over the stocks and shares. Narcissa however, preferred the society pages and the gossip, arguing before breakfast, and over such triviality was not something the dark wizard enjoyed, thus it came about that two copies were ordered. He had never changed the delivery request, and as it happened his son preferred to read the sports pages, thus two copies still avoided any early morning squabbles. In the absence of the younger Malfoy, Hermione was reading his copy, his father now brandishing his own rather rumpled version, or at least he had been until he saw Hermione.

Lucius crossed the kitchen, his anger now clearly replaced by something else, curiosity perhaps, disbelief even. He threw his newspaper down on the old worn table, the house elves were warily returning to their chores, Kauno and Isa to their sleep. The moving image of himself and Hermione loomed under that glaring black headline.

His face said it all, he didn’t have to utter a single word. She could see from the anger which had sparkled in his eyes, and the heated red hue which coloured his usually pale face, Lucius hadn’t got beyond the headline or the picture, he had understandably, assumed the worst. The crumpled state of his paper, confirmed that. Hermione had however continued to read on, now she read aloud:

“ _Well it would appear that former Hogwart’s student, Miss Granger and Lucius Malfoy have joined forces, for the greater good that is. Miss Granger has seduced the one-time Death Eater into helping her and the Ministry of Magic on a fact-finding mission…..._ choice of words and phraseology aside, all true so far?

She waited for Lucius’ affirmation, it came in the shape of a sharp, still obviously rather bemused nod of his head.

“ _The often rather flatteringly referred to, Brightest Witch of Her Age, has with the full sanction of Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt enlisted the help and first-hand knowledge of Lucius Malfoy, to aid her with her work, further enabling her to assist those trying to readjust to life after, trauma or incarceration. The **forward thinking** Minister, has given this new department, headed by the ambitious young witch his full backing and obvious support. _ She has quoted me verbatim Lucius, so I can live with her underhanded sarcasm.”

Lucius was beginning to understand; the headline and the picture had been there to grab one’s attention, they had certainly done that, but because he assumed the worst, he had not been able to get beyond them, his anger spilling over. Forgetting about Kingsley Shacklebolt’s censorship, the past once more came back to haunt him, this time in the shape of the hateful untruths Rita Skeeter had seen fit to write about him on previous occasions.  An average reader would be more easily sucked in, thinking they were going to get a very different story, by the time they realised it wasn’t what they had expected, they were already reading on, reading the truth at that.  Hermione was quite right, despite the underlying derision at her expense, and the somewhat colourful wording, the article was thus far totally accurate, the odious reporter even using actual quotes.

“ _In a rare, frank and exclusive interview with The Daily Prophet, the pair seemed remarkably relaxed as they spoke candidly to me in the Minister of Magic’s office earlier this week. Comfortably seated side by side, both were eager to explain how the former inmate of Azkaban could with his first hand knowledge and insight, help with the rehabilitation of other former prisoners._ Hmm I have to admit Kingsley was right, the article does actually read very well and just as I had intended. I can see what he meant about the odd phrase or word that he might have objected to though, she does like to put her own lurid slant on things, but for Rita Skeeter, dare I say this, it’s not bad.”

Lucius has slid into the chair opposite Hermione, his own now far from pristine copy of the Daily Prophet sat discarded on the table, Hermione was all but buried in the one she read. The headline screamed at him in dark black stereo font as did the picture.

“I suppose technically the headline is true and it’s not a bad photo, even if both are a tad misleading.”

Hermione lowered the broadsheet. Her eyes still sparkling a little with mischief, and a little with defiance.

“Well come on Lucius, this is Rita Skeeter we are talking about here, she had to put her own nasty stamp on it somewhere. I am sure this isn’t the article she wanted to write, so she had to make the best of it, trying to make it something it isn’t, but I think it will have well and truly backfired on her, and I doubt she even realises it.”

She gave him a broad smile.

“And it’s a very nice photo.”

His own broad smile suddenly diminished.

“But there are some people, who will not appreciate or understand you and I even working together, not under any circumstances, _greater good_ or not. I fear you will suffer the backlash more for that than I will, especially taking into account your luncheon engagement tomorrow.”

Hermione knew Lucius right, she’d had the self-same thought the moment Arthur Weasley’s invitation had arrived. The invitation she had accepted none the less, determined to confront the situation head on, refusing to allow herself, her work or Lucius for that matter to be undermined, compromised or treated poorly in any way.

“I know, and I am not deluding myself that it is going to be a quiet friends and family type get together, more like being grilled by the Wizengamot, but I think it’s better to get it over and done with, whilst everyone is together.”

Lucius saw that very familiar spark of determination and defiance flicker in Hermione’s eyes, a look which still scared him.

“Whatever else a pack of Weasley’s might throw at me Lucius, this is **my** job and I choose how I do it.”

She poked her finger at both copies of the newspaper which lay on the table.

“The _misleading_ headline and _scandalous_ picture aside I am working, working for the Ministry of Magic, as Ms Skeeter says with the full sanction and backing of Kingsley Shacklebolt. If that, or my work itself, offends or upsets anyone, member of the Weasley clan or not, then so be it, I will not justify my job or what I do to anyone, least of all a petulant ex-boyfriend, his over protective mother, or my so called best friend.”

Lucius loved her fire and her passion. He loved how indirectly she was standing up for him and he found himself wishing he was accompanying Hermione to the Weasley’s home for lunch tomorrow. Oh, not that he was worried for her, he was more certain than ever, not that he ever doubted it, that she was more than capable of standing up to an entire _pack_ of Weasleys, but because it would probably be a lot more exciting than a Quidditch World cup game, and would certainly be more interesting than lunch with the friends Draco had invited to the Manor the following day.

“I would love to be a fly on the wall.” He mused, his pale eyes glittering, with the smirk that curled his lips.

“Or a beetle on the mantle” Hermione muttered without thinking.

Alongside the article in the Daily Prophet was a small picture of the writer, that coupled with Lucius’ expression caused Hermione’s unbridled, all be it hushed comment and a sudden burst of laughter.

“Don’t tell me you are an Animagus too Lucius?”

Hermione nipped the inside of her lip realising what she had said, and this was a far from hushed muttering. She hoped that Lucius would not bite, but that was too much to expect.

“What do you mean…too?”

Of course, it was too much to expect, but despite her _rather good article,_ she owed Rita Skeeter nothing, and her doubts at revealing her secret to Lucius were well and truly quashed.

Her slender finger once again gestured the newspaper before her, this time clearly indicating the picture of the petite blonde reporter, whose irritating face all but taunted her from the page.

“You remember I told you Rita Skeeter and I had history, history which dated back to when I was at school and it was why she was so wary of me?”

Lucius nodded, he remembered the conversation he’d had with Hermione, immediately after the interview, and also that he thought at the time there was more to it than she was letting on.

“Well that was true enough, but there was a little bit more to it than that.”

Hermione flushed a little guiltily, at the recollection or that she was going to tell Lucius, she wasn’t entirely sure which.

 “Do go on Hermione, I am intrigued, are you telling me that Rita Skeeter is an Animagus?”

Hermione nodded this time, it was easy enough for him to put two and two together especially after what she had intimated at.

“She is, and an unregistered one at that.”

She saw that familiar blonde brow rise, a rather gleeful look light his eyes. She’d told him this much, she might as well tell him the rest of the story.

“I threatened her, when I was at school, that I would report her to the Ministry. Well now as a Ministry Official, it is dangerous enough for her that I know this, and it would of course make her cautious, but…...”

“But…...” Lucius knew there was more to this story and was itching to know the rest, he had a feeling he was going to enjoy the remainder of this tale.

“But…. when the TriWizard tournament was taking place, I found out how she’d been snooping and listening in on all of our private conversations, when she wasn’t even supposed to be coming onto the grounds. Harry said something in jest about her having the place bugged, and well it made me think, I started remembering things. Turned out he wasn’t far from the truth, that was exactly what she was doing, but she was the bug, a beetle to be precise, prophetically a nasty, creepy thing, which wasn’t dissimilar to her. She had planted herself in all sort of places, my hair included just so she could eavesdrop on us all.”

Hermione saw a familiar twitch of revulsion cross Lucius amused and intrigued features. Remembering his comment, following the interview, about feeling like something had crawled all over him.

“One day I quite literally caught her.” Hermione looked a little sheepishly at the enthralled dark wizard.

“She was in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, lurking on the window-sill, and I err, I put her in a jar, where she stayed until we got back to London, I only released her on the proviso that there would be no more stories. There have been times, I wished I’d never let her out.”

Over the last couple of weeks or so, Hermione had heard Lucius laugh, it had been a surprising sound at first, but one which delighted her, the more she heard it. The laughter which engulfed the kitchen surpassed everything that came before. She was certain the house elves and the dogs were more shocked by this sound, than they had been by the burst of anger when he had entered the kitchen. The uncharacteristically hearty sound lit his eyes almost to the point of tears, reddened that pale face of his even more, his large hand came across the table to engulf her own, squeezing it tightly. His face suddenly became very serious once more.

“I wonder how my son only ever escaped his school years with a punch on the nose? And you my dear had the audacity to say I was your most formidable adversary. I thank Salazar that I have never come up against you as my enemy.”

Hermione traded on his mirth and obvious enjoyment of her revelation.

“Hmm let this be a warning to you Lucius Malfoy.”

His laughter once more filled the kitchen, before seriousness again schooled his handsome features.

“Perish the thought Miss Granger. I do however find myself in a very strange place, feeling rather sorry for those Weasley’s tomorrow, Merlin help any one of them who wilfully crosses you.”

Hermione once more enjoyed the sound of Lucius’ hearty laughter, but she couldn’t help but see the more serious side of his words.  Tomorrow was not going to be the relaxed, fun get together she usually enjoyed at the burrow, of that she was certain. She could hardly put all the Weasley’s in a jar, or use any magic on her friends. She would have to use her wits, her common sense and her professionalism, normally all the things which came as second nature to the young witch. So why was anxiety dancing along her spine and nerves flip flopping in her stomach?

 

 


	94. Lunch At The Burrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I am so appreciative of your lovely words, comments andkudos you are all too kind.
> 
> So I know you are all looking forward to this chapter, well its actually chapters, it was too much to cram into one. With that I am going to say a few things, first of course I apologise for any errors whatever they might be. Secondly, as you know from previous chapters, I like to think Hermione has grown up a lot and whilst is not averse to pulling her wand, she will often take the moral high ground and use words as her weapon of choice, which hopefully of course, does not preclude any of the fireworks you are all looking forward to. Thirdly and lastly, I know MY Ginny is perhaps a little out of character to the one you all know and "love" as is perhaps Mrs Weasley but the point is, they are MY Ginny and My Mrs Weasley in this fiction of course, that it, so I appreciate some of you might not like that. Hopefully if you have read this far, you will get that...enough said (hopefully) ENJOY...

 

For the first time Hermione lied to Lucius, assuring him despite the article in the Daily Prophet and the possible fallout she could encounter, she was looking forward to seeing all of her friends, catching up, and enjoying one of Mrs Weasely’s seemingly never-ending lunches.  She supposed in a way, it wasn’t wholly untrue, she was looking forward to all of that, she just wasn’t looking forward to the rancour and inquisition she guessed would accompany it. Hermione wasn’t entirely sure he was being completely truthful with her either, when he assured her in the same vein how much he was looking forward to having lunch with Draco and his friends. She was just as keen to be a fly on his wall. A strange feeling of contentment ebbed into her blood when she thought of them enjoying a drink together later that evening and swapping tales of the respective lunches.

 

Thankfully it was Arthur Weasley who answered the door to the lovingly and painstakingly rebuilt burrow and welcomed Hermione to the Weasley home, his smile and his demeanour were as warm and hospitable as ever.

“Hermione, you made it. So lovely to see you, it’s been too long, come in come in.”

If he was harbouring any animosity towards her, or was angered by the article in the Daily Prophet, which she very much doubted anyway, he certainly showed no outward signs. However, Hermione knew of old, that if there was any hostility, or anyone had any beefs, it would come from his wife and their two youngest offspring. A tad ironic considering one was her ex-boyfriend and one her supposed best friend, but so be it, as her father had been fond of saying, everyone is entitled to their opinion. There might be a lot more Weasley’s, but in the last week or so, the young witch had confronted, Narcissa Malfoy and Rita Skeeter. Whatever anger or grudges Molly, Ronald and Ginny Weasley might hold, whatever issues or misgivings they might have about her _working_ alongside Lucius Malfoy, they were after all her friends, it really couldn’t be worse than confronting the former mistress of Malfoy Manor and the evil tongued reporter, could it?

Harry was the second person to warmly greet her, his big affectionate smile matched with an equally warm hug, which catching sight of the look on Ronald Weasley’s face she was loath to relinquish.

“So good to see you Harry.” She whispered against his ear, feeling his embrace tighten.

“And you.”

He whispered back, finally releasing her, but keeping his arm loosely about her back as they moved more fully into the burrow, her old friend still knew her better than anyone, clearly sensing a little apprehension and knowing full well why.

Three of the older Weasley boys were engrossed in something on the table, whilst Bill was fussing over a heavily pregnant Fleur, who was in turn assuring her fussing husband, she really was fine and honestly didn’t need another cushion. For the moment, she was saved any focus from Molly, who was more occupied with whatever was cooking in the oven, with the somewhat icy looks she was getting from that ex-boyfriend of hers and her so called best friend, it really was just as well. Hermione noticed both of the younger Weasley’s cast a glance in their father’s direction. Arthur Weasley wasn’t known for his strict parenting, it was usually left to his wife to put her foot down and maintain discipline, well try to at least. As children, George and his twin brother Fred had run rings around their mother, although secretly Hermione suspected she had enjoyed every minute of it. 

Hermione felt sure the Daily Prophet article had been a very hot topic in the Weasley household and had probably been discussed and debated at length and with equal heat. From the look which the Weasley patriarch gave his two youngest children, they had been warned it was not to be the hot topic today. The looks on those two youngest offspring’s faces however told two very different stories and Hermione knew them both well enough to know exactly what those stories were. Ronald was seething, torn between being pleased to see Hermione and wanting to continue the interrogation he had tried to start at the Ministry of Magic. His blue eyes were glittering with intensity, his face slightly flushed with the effort of restraining himself. Ginny fared little better but for _very_ different reasons, if she cornered Hermione, she would find herself fending off a barrage of much more personal questions, looking for some juicy gossip to share amongst the Holyhead Harpies. Neither prospect appealed to Hermione, and she hoped they heeded whatever warning’s might Mister Weasley have issued.

“Hermione…..you made it. How naughty you are….”

The slight pause as Molly Weasley headed in her direction, sent a little tremor of dread dancing down Hermione’s spine, Arthur Weasley might not have thought twice about warning his children, all of them, but he would certainly give no such directives to his equally hot tempered wife.

“Leaving it so long before coming to see us.” She admonished as only Molly Weasley could, shaking her head in censure.

Hermione found herself engulfed in the affectionate embrace of Molly Weasley, her red hair wafting a fragrance of fresh baking and the gentle lavender and vanilla scent she wore. 

“Let me look at you.”

Hermione was shoved unceremoniously backwards with a firm but motherly grip. Molly Weasley’s warm, still a little floury, fingers came up to her face, clasping her cheeks softly.

“You’ve lost weight.” She said forthrightly, a stern disapproving inflection in her voice.

Her bright brown eyes narrowing as they wandered over the younger woman.  The little tremor of dread raced back up Hermione’s spine as she replied to Mrs Weasley. Knowing her response could be the spark which lit, what she knew to be a very short fuse.

“I’ve been busy with work, Mrs Weasley, and having to travel.”

Molly Weasley nodded, like her son’s, Hermione saw Ronald’s mother’s eyes glitter intensely, but it wasn’t so much with anger, although perhaps just a hint, and that was mostly directed at her not looking after herself properly.  She’d seen this woman brimming with anger before, but it certainly wasn’t that which burned it their brown depths, it was an odd sadness, tinged with disappointment.

“Hmm yes, I see that you have.” She didn’t elaborate, restraining any further comments.

Hermione noticed her usually bright cheery voice, wasn’t so much disapproving as it was again sad and disappointed.

 “Time for a proper meal now though, but a cup of tea first eh?” 

Hermione nodded, smiling all be it a little warily. Molly Weasley had never been anything but kind to her, even when she and Ronald had split up, but she had felt sure, despite her welcome, she would not be best pleased with her today and would have no compunction in showing that displeasure. Perhaps her husband had said something after all. 

She very much doubted that deep down the fiery, red headed Matriarch of the Weasley clan would be in the least bit happy with the article in the Daily Prophet, what Hermione was doing, let alone the company she had obviously been keeping of late. Just like her youngest son, she really wasn’t the forgiving sort. She certainly wasn’t the type of person to indulge in forward thinking of any kind, she had wanted to keep her youngest two children from returning to Hogwarts just before the Second Wizarding War, feeling it was much too dangerous for them to return. But, having lost Fred then, and her own brothers to Death Eaters during the first Wizarding War, Molly Weasley could be forgiven for _harbouring a grudge_ , even resenting Hermione, and for not moving on. The ironic thing was because of the time she’d spent with Lucius and the dark conversations they’d had, Hermione could understand both the sadness and the disappointment she had seen reflected in the older witch’s eyes. What was hard to accept was that it was directed at her, she felt a certain sadness of her own, that Mrs Weasley would feel that towards her, but she really did understand. At this moment in time however, she was just grateful that she wasn’t showing any of it outwardly and of course for the tea, which came across the room to her in thick, brightly coloured cup with an equally bright and decidedly mismatched saucer.

With Harry still at her side, Hermione sat down on one of the large overstuffed sofa’s, for a while she made polite conversation with Fleur and Bill, asking all the required questions of excited, expectant parents. Fleur was positively glowing and looked incredibly happy with the oldest of the Weasley children _._ Hermione couldn’t ever imagine Ronald in the same situation, fussing around attentively, ensuring his wife was comfortable and had everything she needed. Knowing the youngest Weasley son as she did, Hermione felt sure he would have left her to it, in favour of whatever his three other brothers were still so engrossed with on the table. Although not for long, as their mother’s voice suddenly shrieked across the room for them to clear the table and set it for lunch, **_now,_** a task which Harry and Ronald were also roped into. Mister Weasley was promptly dispatched to the garden by his wife to fetch some mint for their meal, allowing Ginny to effectively pounce on and corner Hermione on the sofa.

Hermione had that same feeling she’d had at the Ministry the other day, when she’d agreed to have coffee with Ginny, the sense of déjà vu increasing as her friend began to speak. Her tone hushed, even over the hubbub in the Burrow.

“So why didn’t you tell me you’d been seeing Lucius Malfoy?”

Old and best friend or not, there was nothing nice in Ginny’s accusatory tone and unjustified inference. The youngest Weasley had made no bones about her feelings towards Lucius Malfoy at their last meeting, her distaste for him and the sort of man she believed him to be, but these feelings seemed to come from a very different place. Hermione’s own angry brown eyes came up to meet Ginny’s. 

“I am not _seeing_ Lucius Malfoy, Ginny. He has simply been helping me, we are working together if you like.”

Going against everything Hermione believed in, this really was an out and out lie in every sense, but Hermione found her defensiveness of Lucius taking over any qualms she had about doing so to her friend. Even more so as she noticed Ginny’s arched brow and salacious grin.

“Well the photograph on the front of the Daily Prophet told a very different story. Looks like you did a lot more than _just bump into him_ at the Ministry bash and it certainly didn’t look much like _work_ to me. Now I know why you were so defensive of him.”

Hermione resisted the urge to say something nasty about the way Ginny’s mind worked, and that being hardly surprising. It was odd, she was prepared for the almost justifiable assault from Molly, even from Ronald, but her girlfriend’s way of making everything sound like cheap, vulgar gossip was really grating on her.

“Did you read any of the article Ginny or did you just look at the carefully chosen picture and scandalous headline and make up the rest yourself?”

Hermione couldn’t help herself, Ginny had hit a nerve when she had accused her of being defensive of Lucius, she was. She was also being defensive of herself, she and Ginny were old, and most of the time best friends, but Ginny being a redhead and a Weasley to boot, they had their moments and this was fast developing into one of them.

Ginny looked more than a little affronted by Hermione’s comment, before responding once more in hushed and accusatory tones.

“Yes, I did actually, read it that is, and even if you were working you still might have told me who with. We are friends I cannot believe that you wouldn’t tell me something like that!”

Hermione bit her lip, yes, she and Ginny were old friends, the best of most of the time, but Hermione often struggled with Ginny’s need to gossip. This time as she and Lucius were the topic of that gossip, it was taking a lot more self-control than usual. She certainly didn’t want this developing any further into one of those moments, or to get into any sort of altercation with Ginny especially not here, she tried to maintain her cool.

“Of course, we are friends Ginny very good ones, but honestly it really was just work. I told you I got dragged along at the last minute, to that Ministry event and that both Lucius and Draco were there.”

She saw Ginny’s brow rise even further, knowing it wasn’t really the Ministry event that was irking her.

“As for _actually working_ with Lucius Malfoy, well it’s just that Ginny, work, and you have never shown the remotest interest in my work before.”

Hermione felt Ginny shift uncomfortably beside her, but knew her friend would not be put off. She took a deep breath waiting for the counter.

“But this is different, you didn’t tell me!”

Ginny’s voice rose a hushed octave or two, reminding Hermione of Ronald’s petulance.

“This is Lucius Malfoy we are talking about, and you must have talked about more than just work stuff. I mean the two of you gave Rita Skeeter of all people and exclusive interview, the picture, the headline, I mean….”

Hermione could hear the exasperation and implication in Ginny’s voice and knew exactly what she meant and it was exactly Rita Skeeter’s intention for people to think that. But Hermione’s patience was wearing ever thinner, and her lip was getting very sore. Taking the moral high ground with Narcissa Malfoy was easy, running rings around Rita Skeeter was a piece of cake. Stopping her best friend in her tracks, without offending or upsetting her was a lot more difficult, as was trying to explain without revealing more than she wanted to.

“I, we…... gave Rita Skeeter the interview to raise awareness of my work and the profile of the Ministry of Magic, well to enlarge the Ministry’s profile actually.”

Hermione decided to stick with the work side and defer to Kingsley Shacklebolt in an attempt to appease and deflect Ginny, knowing she would be just as intrigued by a little background information on the Minster of Magic as she would by Lucius Malfoy. Hermione spoke a little conspiratorially.

“Kingsley was off for a meeting with MUCASA, and he is always looking to make the Ministry look more advanced than them.”

“You didn’t need Lucius Malfoy to help you with that.”

Ginny cut in, almost spitting Lucius’s name at Hermione, clearly, she wasn’t going to be deflected or appeased in any way.  What angered Hermione even more about Ginny’s irritation now, was it had nothing to do with the fact she had been associating with Lucius Malfoy, a former Death Eater, it was simply because Hermione hadn’t told her. Hermione’s patience was almost exhausted and her lip raw, she didn’t need to justify herself, the Minister or Lucius’ to Ginny, but she refused to allow the young redhead to think the worst of any of them.

“No I didn’t, you are quite right Ginny. However, as Lucius Malfoy has been such a big help in terms of where my work is going and what my intentions are, I did not think it was fair for me to take all of the credit. He might still be a monster to some people, but his insight has proved invaluable to me.”

Her tone was as haughty as her rhetoric and Hermione paused, she didn’t want to apologise to Ginny, she had nothing to apologise for, but she wanted to bring this conversation to a halt and as quickly as possible. It was like being cross examined by Rita Skeeter, only worse. Hermione noticed an odd expression drift across her friend’s face, her bright, inquisitive eyes narrowing and then widening.

“When I came to meet Harry the other day, he said you hadn’t been at the Ministry, you’d been working away somewhere. If you’ve been working with Lucius Malfoy, then….”

Hermione knew exactly where Ginny’s mind was going and decided to get in first.

“Yes, I’ve been at Malfoy Manor.” Her tone was light and flippant, not wanting Ginny to read any more into it than she already had.

“It’s much easier and more convenient for both of us.”

 She tried not to put too much emphasis on the us part of the sentence.  
If nothing else Hermione’s revelation shut Ginny Weasley up, stunned her into silence was probably a more accurate description, and Hermione took advantage of it.

 “If I visit Azkaban I stay and when I eventually go to Hogwarts of course I will stay there as well.”

Hermione recognised that look on Ginny Weasley face all too well, she could feel a surge of heat moving through her own body, and it had nothing to do with anger, a flushing guilty looking face was all she needed. As much as she could read Ginny Weasley, Ginny Weasley could also read Hermione.  Fortunately, Hermione was for now, saved further from interrogation by her friend as Molly announced that lunch was ready.

The table was full to bursting in just about every way possible, thank heavens for extension charms.  With Hermione and Harry, the Weasley lunch table boasted a healthy ten, eleven if you counted the soon to be newest addition. An array of oddly assorted chairs seated the hungry hoard, putting them all at different heights, a cacophony of sound engulfed the room, from gentle chatter, to raucous laughter. Plates and dishes floated from one end of the table to the other, sending potatoes, peas and all manner of things all over the place.  Molly drew the line at George attempting to send an oversized gravy boat through the air, suggesting it might be safer to simply pass it to his brother.  Arthur Weasley was happily enjoying a compliment from Percy about the especially good crop of mint this year. Bill was still fussing and checking Fleur was alright and the other conversations all morphed into a hub of cheerful chatter and undisguisable sounds.

Over a vast meal in the Weasley household there was rarely any time for serious conversation and work was never discussed at the dinner table, Hermione relaxed. With all of the Weasleys in attendance she found herself seated at the end between Harry and Mister Weasley, from whom she received a reassuring smile and a rather conspiratorial wink respectively.  There were like two human buffers, and she knew without question, it had been planned that way. She wasn’t sure which one of them had instigated it or who she had to thank, maybe both of them, but she was inordinately grateful for both of their reassuring presences. Although she knew they would not be able to protect her from the inevitable all day.

 


	95. Seeing Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As ever, housekeeping first, and grateful thanks for all of your kudos and comments. Apologies as ever for any mistakes etc whatever.
> 
> I will also reiterate what I said in the previous chapter about how I have written Ronald, his and Hermione's reactions etc. All I will say is this is my fanfic... with that I hope you enjoy it ;-)

 

“So that’s what your _meeting_ was about at the Ministry!”

Ronald Weasley’s tone was as accusatory and indignant as his sisters had been. The difference was, he didn’t care in the least that she hadn’t told him, he simply hated the fact it had happened at all.

Clearly once out of their father’s sight and earshot neither of the youngest Weasley children were of a mind to adhere to anything he might have said. Hermione refrained from biting her lip any further, it was already raw from her encounter with Ginny. Instead she adopted and old trick of her mother’s, stop, take a deep breath and count to ten before speaking. Turning slowly on nine, Hermione faced her ex-boyfriend, a bright challenging smile pinned on her lips.

“Yes, Ronald it was.”

Hermione stuck with an old trick of her own too, never volunteer more information than is required. She saw those same glittering blue eyes and that same flushed puce, restraint that she had seen earlier, although she had a feeling with no one around, the restraint was not going to last very long.

With a Burrow almost crammed to the rafters with visitors it had got a little warm inside, and having helped Mrs Weasley with a little magical washing and clearing up, Hermione had gone into the garden for some fresh air, only to find herself pounced upon once more.

“How could you ‘Mio…Hermione, Lucius Malfoy of all people he’s…he’s”

“He’s what Ronald?” She asked defiantly.

“He’s a Death Eater, he’s Lucius Malfoy!” Ronald hissed angrily at her, his body and his voice shaking with his fury. His face almost redder than his hair.

Hermione looked at the young man standing before her, she was at a loss for words. Wondering whether that loss was at herself, questioning how she had ever been with him, or at Ronald Weasley himself for well quite frankly being Ronald Weasley, apparently stuck in a time warp where stating the obvious was de rigueur.

“Was Ronald **was** , past tense. And honestly that really is very observant of you.”

One thing Hermione had learnt in the time she had spent with the youngest Weasley son, both as a couple and simply as a friend was, he did not like her being a smart arse with him. It had infuriated him, from their first term at Hogwarts, and still did to this day. She saw his usually pale complexion redden even more, if that was actually possible, and knew the restraint was about to be well and truly cast aside.

“Oh like you just give up being a Death Eater, how could you ‘Mione? After everything he and his family have done and to flaunt yourself all over the Daily Prophet.”

The use of the nickname she hated, along with the unfounded comments shortened Hermione’s temper even more, at this rate counting to a hundred and ten wasn’t going to help. Just as she hadn’t wanted to justify herself to Ginny, she didn’t want to justify herself to her brother, nor her actions or her work, she shouldn’t have to, but there was going to be no timely intervention of lunch this time from Mrs Weasley, and as she had said, it was better to get it over and done with. If she could avoid this degenerating into a full-blown argument she would be happy, but she had a feeling anything she said that had Lucius Malfoy in a sentence was going to antagonise him.

“I wasn’t _flaunting_ anything, I didn’t choose the picture or the headline, you know what Rita Skeeter is like!”

Ronald Weasley ignored her mention of the hateful reporter with whom they had all had past dealings with.

“Well obviously, you were enjoying every minute of it, all of the attention.”

Ronald Weasley sounded like Rita Skeeter herself, and Hermione was beginning to think counting to two hundred and ten wasn’t going to help.

“Would you be saying this to me Ron?”

A voice came from behind them, and they both turned towards the house and Harry.

“I doubt Lucius Malfoy would be kissing your hand all over the front page of the Daily Prophet.”

Ronald Weasley’s retort came back immediately and sarcastically at his best friend.

A small involuntary smile lifted Harry’s lips at the notion, but he was really in no mood for Ron’s flippancy or poor attempts at sarcastic humour.

“Probably not, but it could have been Mister Malfoy and I, maybe talking at the same event, shaking hands perhaps.”

Harry looked expectantly at his old friend, moving closer to Hermione. He knew she didn’t need him to fight her battles, she never had. However, he’d noticed Ginny talking to her just before lunch, and was well aware of his girlfriend’s feelings on the article in the newspaper, she had spent most of the previous evening bending his ear about it, so he should do. He’d only been at the Burrow a few minutes when he got the identical ear bashing from her brother. Getting it in the neck from one Weasley was quite enough for anyone, but two was a nightmare, even for Hermione. He also happened to disagree with them both, not that either of them had given him a chance to say as much, let alone listen to any reasoning he might have.

“It’s not the same.” Ron’s tone was indignant.

“Why” Both Hermione and Harry spoke their response in unison.

“Because you and I are Aurors, we deal with Dark Wizards…we…”

It was Harry who cut in.

“We do, and even more reason why perhaps I shouldn’t be pictured shaking hands with a former Death Eater on the front page of a newspaper.”

“Yes, but you weren’t, you wouldn’t.”

Harry was sorely tempted to tell Ron, that he had actually shaken hands with Lucius Malfoy only recently, of course it hadn’t made the front page of the Daily Prophet, but he decided against it, the mood Ron it wasn’t worth it and it would probably only make things worse.

Ron floundered on as only Ron could.

 “Hermione was and it’s all over the Daily Prophet and…”

“And what precisely Ronald.”

This time it was Hermione who interrupted, her temper gradually beginning to get away from her. Had her former boyfriend said anything reasonable she might have been prepared to listen, but so far, he was spouting utter rubbish, with a smattering of the obvious.

“Associating with the likes of him.”

Hermione couldn’t contain the unamused laugh which slipped from her lips.

“You sound just like Lucius did all those years ago when we first met him, when he accused your father of associating with Muggles. I think you are more blinkered and prejudiced than he ever was.”

As well as her defensive words, Ron noticed how Hermione referred to Lucius Malfoy only by his given name, it angered him even more, along with the fact he had just been likened to him and the further fact that his best friend also seemed to be sticking up for him.

“But, the man stood by whilst you were tortured in his house, he threatened to kill Harry, whilst his Death Eater friends did the same to us!”

Ron, felt he had made a valid point which could not be argued, sticking his hands in his pockets he puffed out his chest, looking angrily and a little smugly at Hermione.

Hermione and Harry exchanged glances, as always, their understanding of each other needed no words, it was again Harry who spoke, and it was Harry who came to Lucius Malfoy’s defence.

“None of us have forgotten that Ron, least of all Hermione I am sure, but it was a different time, we were at war.”

He paused briefly choosing his words with care, he didn’t want to upset Ron or really make him feel as if he were taking sides, but making Ron Weasley see reason or anything outside of his very small field of vision could be difficult, but he’d had a lot of practice, not only with Ron, but with Ginny too.

 “I honestly don’t think I would be foolish enough to question Hermione’s judgement or undermine Kingsley Shacklebolt, if they are prepared to give Mister Malfoy another chance, then who are we to argue?”

“But, but why him of all people?”

Hermione heard that familiar childish petulance seep into Ronald’s tone.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake Ronald, grow up. This is my work, I don’t question you or Harry, why should I have to justify myself to you.”

She shouldn’t have to but for Lucius’ sake she would if she had to.

“But why him?” He repeated somewhat stupidly.

Hermione realised that unlike his sister, Ronald Weasley hadn’t read the article in full. He really would not have been able to get past the cunningly deceptive headline and the equally misleading picture. She knew he would have just seen red, cherry picked the bits he wanted to and then cast it aside, turning a deaf ear to any discussion on the subject, or anyone trying to tell him anything different to what he believed.

“Well if you’d got beyond Rita Skeeter’s bloody headline and that damned picture you would know why.”

She saw his face flush harder, this time it wasn’t it anger and knew she was right.

“Because quite simply Lucius Malfoy has been where a lot of the people I work with, and am trying to help, have been. There are few people that have, and I was not about to let that valuable insight fall by the wayside, just because of some now ancient history and other people’s narrow minded prejudices.”

“But how could you forget what he did?”

Hermione exchanged another exasperated glance with Harry.

“It’s like Harry said I haven’t forgotten, of course I haven’t.”

Hermione was right, Ronald Weasley was even more stuck in the past than Lucius.

“I could never forget any of the things that happened, to any of us. Our friends, those we lost. But we cannot stay buried in the past forever, we have to move on, maybe even forgive eventually. People can change you know.”

The mirthless laughter this time came from Ron.

“People like Lucius Malfoy don’t change, I will never forget what he did and I will **never** forgive him.”

In many ways, Ronald Weasley was still the child she’d met at school all those years ago. Age had just made him more stubborn and a lot less willing to listen. His childish reactions and impetuousness were acceptable at 11, at 13 even, now he just seemed more immature than ever, especially compared to Harry and even Draco, who although still occasionally showed that petulant streak from his childhood days, had also shown himself to be a caring and smart young man, who despite all the odds and regardless of everything was prepared to try and change and move on. It wasn’t easy to shake of the sins of his own past let alone those of his father, it took courage and strength of character to do so and Hermione respected the younger Malfoy for that. She also admired what he was doing for his father and vice versa. She silently chided herself for the comparisons she found herself making, but she couldn’t help it. Ronald Weasley standing before her, his childlike anger emanating from his sturdy frame, she could almost envisage him stamping his foot. In his anger, Draco had at least been justified and although unrestrained and a little misdirected in the end, he had also shown great maturity, something which Ronald Weasley was severely lacking in all around.

Hermione stopped herself, she really wasn’t being fair. After all that he had endured and lost, his home, his brother, he had every right to be angry and unforgiving, but he did not have the right to be angry at her, nor did he have the right to judge or berate her for the choices that she made. Hermione tried another count…1,2,3….

“How can you believe a word that he says. The man has the tongue of a serpent and has made lying an art form.”

Harry felt Hermione stiffen at his side, even from this angle he could tell from her body language that she was a hairs breadth away from losing it with their friend. She had made no attempt to reach for her wand, so he doubted she would hex him, not here, although if their thoughtless, blinkered, old schoolfriend continued in this way, he really couldn’t be so sure.

Arthur Weasley had pulled Harry aside shortly after he arrived at the Burrow to warn him that Ron wasn’t happy, Harry had in turn told him that his daughter was exactly the same. Between them they had agreed to try and keep the peace, avoid any contentious subjects, especially the Daily Prophet article. Lunch had been a success, the seating instigated with almost military precision. But Ron clearly wanted his say with Hermione, leaving her under no illusions about how he felt.

“Well I for one Ron, speak as I find now, I don’t base my actions or my reactions on things that happened in the past.”

With his interference, Harry found Ron’s anger pointed in his direction. Sticking up for Hermione had proved _treacherous_ in the past, but Harry had only ever stood up for who and what he believed was right or what he believed in, that was not going to change now. Deciding perhaps now would be a good time to tell Ron about this own encounter with Lucius Malfoy.

“I spoke to Mister Malfoy the other day when he was at the Ministry”

Harry noticed Ron’s mouth open and close again. Whilst it was closed he carried on quickly.

“I have to say he was very sincere. I don’t think he would have lied to Hermione, and if he had, she would have seen right through him. She always knew when you and I weren’t being truthful.”

“Of course she knew when we were lying Harry, we knew each other really well, we were friends.”

There was that hollow mirthless laughter again, Ron’s irritation clearly mounting, at both of them now.

“Looks like Lucius Malfoy has you fooled as well Harry, not great for an Auror.”

Ron almost sneered at his old friend, evidently now, just as angry with Harry as he was with Hermione, and not done yet.

“All of the Malfoy’s only ever do anything for the good of themselves or their precious name. Getting himself on the front page of the Prophet with Hermione Granger and supposedly doing something for the good of the Ministry won’t do him any harm. Trying to wheedle his way back into their good books I bet.”

Hermione took a step closer to Ron, Harry knew the situation was outside of his control now. He might have stood up to Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy in his time, he might well have fought a basilisk and Lord Voldemort, but there was no way he was going to get between Hermione and Ron.

Hermione didn’t need her wand to scare the hell out of her ex-boyfriend, her blazing brown eyes and a slender finger jabbed sharply into his shoulder were quite enough.

“You really do talk utter crap sometimes Ronald Weasley.” The finger continued its vicious, pointed assault along with her words.

“If this was just about me I really wouldn’t bother arguing with you, it’s not worth it, but I will _always_ defend my friends to others.”

Triumphantly, she saw the visible shock on the redhead’s face.

“Yes, you heard right _friends._ Whether you like it or not Ronald Weasley, I consider both Draco and _Lucius_ friends now.”

Hermione could easily have stopped there, and walked away. But Ronald Weasley had pushed too many buttons and she was seeing too much red, in more ways than one. She didn’t want to hurt him, and in reality, she didn’t actually want to fight with him, but Hermione was determined to put this to bed once and for all. She would not allow him to do this every time they met, she didn’t want it to dominate or cloud their friendship and she certainly didn’t want to worry what would happen, every time he bumped into Lucius or Draco.

Ron clearly thought she was done too, visibly relaxing against the prodding finger. The deep breath and fiery spark in her eyes told him, Hermione Granger was far from done.

“I am not the Minister of Magic, nor am I a legilimens so I have no idea what, if anything Lucius or Draco will get out of all of this. If, however the article in Daily Prophet goes some way to correcting the malicious lies it previously printed about Lucius then I for one will be happy.”

Hermione paused momentarily, if only to give her finger a rest.

“Like Harry, I speak as I find now, and how people treat me now. That includes you Ronald Weasley, and I do not appreciate being interrogated by you on what should have been a nice relaxing and friendly day. Furthermore, I do not like you questioning my professional judgement or the decisions made by the Minister of Magic, you think you know better?”

Ron opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione cut him off, she was on a roll and would not be interrupted.

“I cannot fault either Draco or Lucius on their hospitality or their kindness towards me. I am not going to stand here and tell you what we have discussed, but to shut you up, hopefully once and for all on this, I will tell you that we have talked about the past, about fact _that Lucius stood by whilst I was tortured_ in the very house where I have been staying. But **I** have told him to leave it there in the past, what is done is done and we cannot change that, I have moved on and I want him to do the same. I know how he feels about what happened, I have accepted it and that should be enough. People can change, I might not have known Lucius back then, but I certainly spent enough time with Draco to know that he is a very different man to the boy we were all at school with.”

Ron opened his mouth to speak again, but Hermione cut him off, again. Her roll and her anger were loading a veritable arsenal of words.

“The Malfoy’s might not have suffered in the same way that any of us did, but they suffered their own ordeals. Just like us they are still haunted and traumatised by the past. You might think deservedly so, and you are entitled to your opinion, but just make sure it is an enlightened one.”

“Well said Hermione. We all change, sometimes for the better and sometimes not.”

Three young faces turned in unison at the sound of Arthur Weasley’s voice, his youngest son looking decidedly shamefaced at his father’s words and at his presence.

“We have to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, until they prove us right or wrong, whichever. I warned both you and your sister about saying anything to Hermione. You of all people should respect Ministry business and other people’s work.”

“But Dad…”

Arthur Weasley tilted his head to one side, waiting for his son to argue further with him. He might not be a strict disciplinarian, but it was clear his son knew better than to argue with him. 

“Hermione, I apologise for my children. This really was supposed to be a nice family lunch not an interrogation. I know as your friends, my children think they have the right to say such things, but there are boundaries and knowing Ron and my daughter as I do, I think they will have used friendship to cross them without a second thought.”

Mister Weasley as always had the effect of a soothing balm, with his easy down to earth common sense. The hangdog look on his son’s face enough to diffuse the situation and Hermione’s anger.

“It’s fine Mister Weasley, I know my friends only too well, I knew what to expect.”

Hermione once more found herself buffered between Harry and Mister Weasley and she had to smile. Not that she needed a confidence boost but it gave her one and she once more turned to his youngest son.

“When I met Draco and Lucius at that Ministry event, the one pictured on the front of the Prophet, I felt exactly the same way as you, all those old feelings of hatred came rushing back, the resentment and animosity I felt towards Draco. I had to remind myself that was the past, times had changed and that I was working for the Ministry of Magic now, I had an office to uphold. As your father says Ronald, we all change and I simply gave them the benefit of the doubt.”

She saw even more red as Ronald Weasley’s face coloured with yet further embarrassment at her words.  

 

 

 

 


	96. The Price of Chocolate Frogs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as always we start with my thanks for more lovely comments and kudos. Closely followed by those apologies for stuff.
> 
> Some of you have been asking about the lunch going on at Malfoy Manor, well for various reasons I have decided to do that one retrospectively, which I hope you will understand and appreciate when it happens. With that as always I hope that you enjoy this chapter...

 

“I should go.”

Mister Weasley had ushered his youngest, far from pleased son, back into the Burrow, himself clearly unimpressed with the treatment of a guest in his home and Ron’s flagrant disregard for his earlier words of warning.

“It’s only early Hermione, or are you expected elsewhere?”

Hermione met Harry’s tactfully inquisitive gaze with a somewhat frosty look of her own.

“No Harry I am not expected _anywhere_ , and if you are going to start on me now, then I am leaving right now.”

“Come on Hermione, you know me better than that.” There was a little hurt in the young wizard’s tone.

Of course she did, and she suddenly felt a little ashamed of herself for suggesting otherwise, but she really wasn’t in the mood for a third inquisition, had it been Mrs Weasley she would have had little option but to stay and face the music, but not with Harry.

“Sorry Harry, it’s just, well first Ginny and then Ronald, it’s all a bit much for one afternoon, even for me.”

Harry smiled reassuringly, seating himself in one of the out of the slightly out of place deck chairs in the Burrow garden. He patted the mismatched chair next to him.

“Go on, sit down. We haven’t had a chance to catch up since.” He thought for a moment.

“I think it was Christmas. And it looks like I have quite a bit to catch up on.”

He recognised an all too familiar glint in Hermione’s eyes as she made to sit with him, he carried on quickly before she changed her mind.

“But no inquisition I promise. We can talk about anything you like Quidditch results, the price of chocolate frogs, I don’t mind.”

With a very boyish grin on his face he patted the chair next to him again, more forcefully this time, watching as Hermione slid warily into it.

“Chocolate frogs have really jumped up in price.” She managed a small grin.

Harry laughed out loud at her quick amusing retort. That was the Hermione he knew and loved.

 “I don’t mind talking about it Harry.” She sighed jadedly.

“My work, as much as I can that is, or even the article in the Daily Prophet, but I don’t expect to be judged, or for everyone to think that they know better than me.”

“Now you really do know me better than that. As if I would dare to judge or presume anything when it comes to you.”

The horrified yet humorous tone in her old school friend’s voice and the look on his face, this time made her laugh aloud. She sank back into the striped chair.

“Just as well.” She returned his good humour, patting his hand appreciatively.

“It’s not that I didn’t expect it. I knew it would be like walking into a dragon’s den, especially with Ronald, but, no offence Harry but with Ginny as well, it just wound me up more than I thought it was going to.”

Harry clasped her hand in his.

“I Know, she can be a little intense when it comes to the Malfoy’s and put her and Ron together …”

Hermione nodded, secretly a little annoyed with Ginny on more than one level, double standards for starters. She pushed the thought to once side, Ginny was after all her friend and they were entitled to harmless girly chatter. Hermione overlooked the fact with Ginny, it wasn’t always just that.

She gave Harry a sidelong look, not wanting to dwell on the reactions of the two youngest Weasley offspring.

“What?” He asked suddenly feeling he was in the doghouse.

“Did you mean what you said, or were you just sticking up for me? About Lucius, speaking as you find and that?”

Harry again smiled reassuringly, it was more than a little odd hearing her refer to the still formidable Lucius Malfoy by his Christian name. She had known Arthur Weasley for a lot longer, and she knew him a good deal better than Draco’s father, but he was always Mister Weasley.

“Sure, I meant it, I haven’t seen Draco or his father in a while, well not to speak to as such, but I have to say Mister Malfoy was polite and sincere when we met in your office the other day. I try not to go out of my way to pick fights these days.”

Hermione returned his smile. “He has changed, you know, they both have.”

Harry remained silent, knowing Hermione would continue if she wanted to.

“With what I do, I really can’t say too much, but well to be honest it was partly the reason behind the article in the Daily Prophet.”

She needed to tell Harry as much as she could, needing him to understand, properly understand, not just because it was her.

“Lucius has been helping me, and in some ways, I him.” She felt a little flush creep over her face.

“I wanted to repay him in some way for talking to me, he didn’t have to. Yes, I know it won’t do him or Draco any harm, get back into the Ministry’s good books and all that. But having got to know them both better than I ever did, I wanted to dispel some of those hateful things Rita Skeeter had written about Lucius before, and maybe change the way some people still felt about him. It seemed like a good idea, at the time at least.”

Harry was all too familiar with Hermione’s feistiness, her good heart and Rita Skeeter’s evil quill. And he knew, Hermione would not put her reputation on the line unless she truly believed in something or someone, nor would she sit did with hateful reporter unless it was on her terms and for good reason.

“You know you aren’t going to win everyone over, don’t you?”

Harry trod carefully, he didn’t want to upset his best friend any more than she was already upset, even if it wasn’t with him.

“To some people, no matter what you say or how hard you try, Lucius Malfoy will always be a…..”  
“I know.” Hermione cut him off short, she didn’t want to hear him refer to Lucius in those old terms.

“I get that Harry, and I expected it, I know one article in the Daily Prophet of all places is not going to wipe the slate clean, change everything that has gone before, but then if I cannot convince my own friends, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

Harry squeezed her hand.

“Not everyone is as pig headed as Ginny and Ron. It is a good idea and I know you, your heart is in the right place and your head is rarely anywhere else, especially when it comes to the good of the Ministry. It might not happen overnight, but I am sure there are a lot of people out there, whose views you will help to change, enlighten.”

A little wry smile was back on his bespectacled face. “And of course, you know Ginny just has the hump because you didn’t tell her in the first place.”

Hermione gave Harry a full-blown knowing smile.

“Yeah, I know, on both counts. Ronald would hate Lucius Malfoy if he turned out to be Father Christmas and Ginny, well I tried to tell her it was just work and she as much as said I should have told her first whether it was work or not.”

“There you go then, it wasn’t anything you didn’t expect eh?  Mister Weasley was okay, and no one else seemed at all perturbed or even bothered about it.”

“Mister Weasley is great, he always manages to steer Ronald away from or out of trouble, but the problem is he isn’t always there to do it and unfortunately he won’t always be. One day he’s going to come well and truly unstuck.”

The two old friends were in total agreement about that. The hot headed youngest Weasley son, was one day going to very much bite of a lot more than even he could chew.

“To be honest I thought Mrs Weasley might not be too happy with me, would bend my ear, but she seems alright.”

Harry cast a glance over his shoulder, as if to check that no one was listening to their conversation.

“Well actually, I heard them talking earlier just after I arrived. Mrs Weasley was telling Ron’s dad that whilst she might not like it, it was Ministry business, and if Kingsley approved then she would say nothing.”

“Well that’s something I guess, at least she is being reasonable, whatever her feelings.”

Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief, thankful that she wouldn’t be getting a third Weasley interrogation, not today at least.

“I suppose as you say I cannot change everyone’s opinion, I cannot get everyone to understand, I can just give it my best shot, to enlighten them.”

Harry squeezed her hand again, tighter this time.

“Well if anyone can enlighten people it’s you Hermione and, no one can ever accuse you of not giving anything your best shot or giving something your all.”

Hermione felt her face flush once more, well she had certainly given Lucius Malfoy her all.  She avoided looking directly at Harry, gazing about the Burrow garden.

“What? Is there something else, something you’re not telling me?”

Just as she had thought with Draco, there was an awful lot she wasn’t telling Harry, some things that she couldn’t, and some that she wasn’t prepared to. She shook her head, frightened that Harry knew her too well, and her voice would give her away. Even he might not be quite so understanding if he knew just how much she had given to Lucius Malfoy and that there was definitely something else that she wasn’t telling him.

“I promised I wouldn’t quiz you or judge you Hermione, you know that, right?

The hurt tone was back in his voice.

“Above all else I am your friend, you can tell me anything or nothing. But I am always here for you.”

Hermione didn’t want to lie to Harry in anyway, above all else he was her friend, he was her best friend and she knew no matter what, he always would be. But whilst he spoke as he found and had appreciated Lucius’ politeness and sincerity she wasn’t entirely sure how he would react to finding out there was more to their relationship than just work, or the friendship she had admitted to. She shockingly found a little part of herself, wanting to confide in her long time friend, but it wasn’t just her secret to tell and another part of her wasn’t sure she was ready to.

Late afternoon had drifted into early evening, the sun had gone down and Hermione shivered, due to the drop in temperature or the thought of Harry’s reaction, she really wasn’t sure.

“I really should go, it’s getting late and, well to be honest, Malfoy Manor doesn’t hold the fear it once did for me, but I don’t like arriving at the gates when it’s too dark.”

Harry wasn’t sure what to say to Hermione about her staying at Malfoy Manor, she wasn’t a child, she was a young woman now, he knew it was also just a house and things were very different now, but he still had his reservations. He also applauded her courage, after what had happened to her there, he doubted he would have been so keen to return.

“What?” This time Hermione voice the question.

“I was just thinking I might not have had the courage to return there as you have.”

His words a little toned down from his thoughts. He felt Hermione’s fingers tighten around his own this time. Noticing her face pale a little in the diming light.

“The first time it was really hard, I felt as if I had gone back in time. It was going to be just as it had.  But….”

Her noticed an odd little sparkle in her eyes, and the colour returned to her face.

“I know this is going to sound very hard to believe, both Draco and Lucius were really sweet, they tried to comprehend what I had gone through and of course they apologised.”

Sweet, Lucius and Draco Malfoy, yes Hermione wasn’t joking that was hard to believe and even more weird to hear. But Harry did not doubt Hermione for one minute.

“As I said to Ronald, and I won’t bore you with the details, although I know you would understand. I had to move on from that, and I had to get them to do the same, it’s in the past. Now I get stroppy with both of them if it comes up.”

Now that wasn’t so hard to believe or to imagine, Hermione getting stroppy with Draco and his father, he’d seen that many times during the course of their friendship, although he couldn’t help wondering how it went over now with her as an adult.

“Now that I’d like to see, even after all these years you standing up to the Malfoy’s never grows old.”

There was shared laughter between the two friends.

“Draco told Lucius that I punched him on the nose you know.”

Harry’s laughter quieted and he looked questioningly at Hermione.

“I bet that went down well.”

“Quite possibly if he’d told him at the time, I would have been kicked out of Hogwarts, but as he only told him this week, I was alright.”

“Oh, you mean he only _just_ told his father, but that was years ago.”

“I know, but let’s face it, Draco was hardly going to going home to Mummy and Daddy and tell them he’d been, whacked in the face by me…...a Mudblood girl.”

Harry couldn’t help noticing the slight inflection of sadness which drifted in Hermione’s voice as she recounted the story or of the other little variations in her tones as she had spoken of their childhood nemesis and his father. He wasn’t a fool, he knew that the relationship between father and son had not been as loving as it should when they were at school, and he understood that might have not just been confined to their school years. He realised that perhaps the friendship Hermione had now struck up with Draco Malfoy and his father, went a lot deeper than she had intimated. But like everything else, if Hermione wanted to confide in him, she would but in her own time. For now he would appreciate what she had told him, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem.

“Oh yeah that’s true, can you imagine the shame of having to impart that, even if it had got you expelled. I was quite surprised at the time actually, as well as being seriously impressed.”

Hermione gave Harry a questioning look.

“That Draco didn’t say, wait till my father hears about this.”

More much louder laughter filled the ensuing night air of the Weasley home.


	97. Swapping Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of apologies this week. Firstly for delay in updating and secondly for not getting to reply to all of your lovely comments this week. Please rest assured I read them all and love your continued support and kind words. I knew you would all be looking forward to another chapter rather than me replying so I concentrated on that. I hope you will forgive me...it was a really busy week. That said...apologies for any errors this week, I promise to reply to you all this week and I hope you enjoy this latest chapter...
> 
> Another apology it appears the unchecked version of this got published, so I am reposting

 

Hermione’s departure from the Burrow was _mostly_ met with a chorus of sad disapproval, requests for her to stay longer, and protests that it was it was still only early. Acceptance that she wasn’t going to change her mind, was _mostly_ met with demands that she should not leave it so long and that it had been lovely to see her this time. Everyone hugged her tightly, including Mrs Weasley, who although was warm and gracious, Hermione could see a little reticence in her rosy face. Mister Weasley was just Mister Weasley, as lovely and friendly as always. She just about managed to get her arms around Fleur in a gentle hug, and wished her and Bill lots of luck with their imminent arrival. Ginny remained a little aloof, and Hermione got the impression that words from both her father and her boyfriend had soothed her ruffled feathers, calming her actions towards her best friend. They hugged maybe not quite so tightly, they smiled, maybe not quite so happily, but the two friends remained just that and promised to see each other soon.

Ronald Weasley’s hug was as half-hearted as his smile, a smile which did not reach his narrowed blue eyes, but nonetheless he was at the door to say goodbye to Hermione, quite possibly, also under stern instructions from his father.

“I suppose you are going back there.” He all but hissed against her ear, as he embraced Hermione unenthusiastically.

Hermione refused to take the bait, giving him a big, bright but decidedly false smile.

“Yes Ronald, lovely seeing you too.”

She backed out of his lukewarm embrace and took Harry’s hand as he walked her to the door and the boundary of the Burrow, where she would apperate back to Malfoy Manor.

“Take care of yourself Hermione, and let us really get together soon.”

She nodded squeezing his hand.

“You know where I am if you need me.”

Hermione hugged him to her, grateful for his presence and his unbending words of support.

“You could always come and visit me at the Malfoy Manor, have lunch. Lucius wouldn’t mind.”

Hermione thought nothing of her invitation, knowing her words to be true.

There was that tiny, almost indiscernible inflection in her voice again. No one else would notice it, not Ron, not Ginny, only Harry. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but he’d heard it on a couple of previous occasions. When she spoke Lucius Malfoy’s name today, he heard it. Maybe he would take her up on her offer of lunch, perhaps seeing her at Malfoy Manor, with its Lord and Master would help pinpoint it and alleviate those little doubts he had.

“I’d actually quite like that.”

He noticed the surprise in her brown eyes, he knew her well enough to know it hadn’t been am empty invitation, but she probably doubted he would take her up on it.

“Well if you can walk back in that house again, then so can I. Why don’t you owl me some dates and we can sort something out.”

“I will. Thank you.”

He felt her pull him back into her embrace once more, her arms tightening about him. A brief kiss on the cheek and she apparated away.

 

Malfoy Manor was just moments away from being shrouded in the absolute darkness of nightfall when she arrived at the tall outer gates.  She passed through the carefully constructed wards and walked up the gravel pathway to the equally imposing front door, she passed through the second set of wards with the same ease.  A few lights burned brightly in the hallway in readiness for the onset of night. The house seemed quiet and Hermione assumed its young guests must have gone. Draco obviously not asking them to stay the night, well perhaps not all of them.

She felt a ridiculously bizarre sense of wellbeing as she walked across the large entranceway, popping her head into various rooms as she went, the dining room, Narcissa’s old sitting room, the kitchen, startling the house elves, who were busily putting things away and clearing up.  They informed Hermione that, Master Draco’s guest had left, but they all seemed unsure as to the whereabouts of the young Master or his father.  Hermione hoped that wasn’t a bad omen and quickly went off in search of them both.

There had been no sign of the dogs in the kitchen and the young witch wondered if perhaps Lucius had taken them out for a late stroll, but it seemed just a little too dark for that, and it was much colder than when she had left the Burrow. The thin dress and lightweight cardigan she had opted to wear, giving her little protection against what had turned into a chilly spring night. Opening the door to the library she found three of the missing occupants sleeping soundly in front of a small, gently blazing fire, Kauno and Isa sprawled at their Master’s feet. Lucius’s eyes were closed and he was cradling a brandy glass between his fingers, it rested somewhat precariously in his lap.  A happy warmth spread through her body at the peaceful, almost idyllic scene before her, it reminded her of the afternoon she had returned from the Ministry, when she had fallen asleep on the rug in her and woken to find Lucius watching her intently.  This time however, there was no soggy owl perched on the log basket, but other than that the scene was almost identical.

Hermione could hear Lucius’ gentle and even breathing as she approached him, the two hounds remained undisturbed by her arrival, twitching and lightly snoring in their own slumber. Worried for the safety of the expensive crystal goblet, her fingers carefully clasped the rim. With infinite caution, she lifted it from his slacked grasp, placing it silently on the table at his side. Those same slacked fingers curled around her wrist like Devil’s Snare. Hermione let out a small surprised gasp her wide brown eyes coming to meet his lazy silver grey. A beautiful, if somewhat sleepy smile lifted his lips, his long flaxen hair glowing in the soft light of the fire.

“Your delicious and very distinctive scent gave you away my dear.”

His voice all but caressed her ears, its tone as sleepy and lazy as his mouth and eyes. His thumb lightly caressed the inside of her wrist, sending strange little tremors racing all over her body as she realised just how much she had missed this man today. Despite the recent conversation about their _relationship_ , the notion hit her like a heavy leather quaffle. She’d missed those clipped but oh so familiar tones. She’d missed his surprisingly tentative touch, with even the merest hint of contact, like this one, which still brushed lightly against her wrist. Without any thought, Hermione replaced the brandy goblet, sitting a little less precariously on his lap than it had been. She saw a small flicker of surprise light his face before another beautiful smile adorned his decidedly more awake features.

 Hermione found herself overwhelmed with almost childlike curiosity.

“So, did they leave or their own accord or did the formidable Lucius Malfoy scare them off?”

Lucius couldn’t help the smile which was stretching across his face, more than a little shocked at finding her deposited in his lap, he liked that she did it with such infinite ease and clearly thought nothing of the action. He controlled the smile, schooling his face into a deeply affronted look.

“What do you take me for Miss Granger, as if I would do such a thing to guests in my home.”

He felt a sudden pang of guilt at his perhaps thoughtless words, but it was unfounded. Hermione’s giggle better than her stern voice telling him off for recounting the past _again._ Her laughter causing her to wriggle in his lap, his body reacting as it always seemed to with her.  He schooled that too, but with a lot more difficulty.

“It was actually a very pleasant day, surprisingly tiring, but most enjoyable.”

Hermione was pleased that Lucius had enjoyed himself and that apparently, it had gone well. Annoyingly finding herself slipping into Ginny Weasley mode, if a bit more subtle.

“Did you know them all, or were they new friends?”

Lucius, reached for his brandy, he took a small sip before responding to Hermione.

“Not all of them, there were a couple I had not met before.  Draco tells me that you know Astoria Greengrass.” There was casual but curious tone about his voice.

“He tells me the same thing.” She screwed up her nose slightly.

“We were talking about some mutual friends the other day.”

She covered her tracks quickly not wanting to betray any confidences. Noticing a look of confusion of Lucius’ face.

“I honestly don’t remember her, Draco thinks I knew everyone at school.”

Lucius watched her keenly over the rim of his glass.

“They were seeing each other for a while, after the war.” He volunteered.

Again, Hermione was careful and measured in her response, she didn’t want Lucius thinking she and Draco had been talking behind his back, and she did not want Draco to think he could not confide in her in the future. She as always stuck with the truth, if a tad noncommittally.

“Yes, Draco mentioned something, but he seemed more miffed that I didn’t remember her.”

She deflected to herself as always, wondering if Lucius would impart any more.  She felt him shift a little uncomfortably beneath her, but sensed it had nothing to do with her weight.

“I am sure he also mentioned that his mother and I didn’t approve and were less than hospitable to her.”

She met Lucius probing grey gaze head on.

“He did.” Hermione wouldn’t elaborate, she waited for Lucius to.

“I think perhaps it was the reason, maybe one of many why, Draco didn’t want his friends coming to the Manor.”

This conversation was turning into a bit of a minefield, and one that the young witch really did not want to wade through. Talking about Lucius’ feelings and reactions was one thing but talking about Draco’s in anything but a generic sense, again verged on the betrayal of confidence.

“Well clearly those reasons no longer exist. I assume that Draco and his friends had an equally enjoyable time?”

Hermione was quite pleased with her sidestep, pushing the conversation in a slightly different direction. She felt Lucius relax and saw the lazy smile steel its way back onto his face.

“They said they did.”

Hermione wasn’t sure if Lucius sounded unconvinced or surprised by his own words.

“I noticed that Draco and Astoria were quite close again.”

Did she sidestep this suspected mine, or did she put a tentative foot to the ground? She wasn’t comfortable talking about Draco so asked Lucius the question directly.

“And do you approve this time Lucius?”

Lucius viewed his son’s _friendship_ with the young woman very differently to how he had once done, and from a totally different perspective.

“It isn’t really for me to approve or disapprove. It’s not like it was in mine and Narcissa’s day, or before the war, when you had to make a good match with a suitable and respected family. Now I just want my son to be happy. He looked very happy today.”

There was a distant hint of sadness in Lucius voice, which he quickly pushed aside.

“He was rather pleased when I suggested perhaps next time they might like to visit for the weekend.”

Hermione didn’t want to dwell on the sadness she heard in Lucius’ voice, instead focusing on the pleasure he’d clearly derived from seeing Draco so happy.

“That was very brave of you Lucius.” Actually, Hermione opted to tease him just a tad, she couldn’t resist.

“One afternoon seems to have worn you out.”

A blonde brow rose in that familiar mock irritation, but his grey eyes continued to twinkle and even the smile did not diminish.

“Lunch with a half a dozen very young people can be…”

Hermione’s hand suddenly flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in horror her face flushing noticeable even in the dimly lit room.

“Merlin’s teeth!” She exclaimed.

Her brown eyes widening yet further, filled with what Lucius could only describe as mortification.

“Hermione what on earth is it?”

Her face flushed an even deeper shade of crimson.

“Lucius I am so sorry, I .. err…well.”

Lucius felt the tension in her body through his own clothing and the thin dress she wore. What in Salazar’s name had she done to incite this kind of reaction.

“Hermione tell me what is it?”

“I err well, talking of young people and lunch…. I err. Oh lord…I am really sorry, I invited Harry to lunch.”

The look of fear on Lucius Malfoy’s changed from one of heartfelt concern, to one of utter confusion.

“Here!” She said in a hushed even more horrified tone.

Utter confusion deepened.

“And?”

This time it was Hermione’s turn at the utter confusions look.

“This is your house, your home.”

Lucius, had had quite a long day, admittedly and enjoyable one, but it had been tiring, he’d nodded off to sleep and had had a brandy. His brain was maybe not as sharp as it usually was, but Hermione’s outburst and statement had clearly turned it to mush. He really did have no idea what she was talking about, other than stating the obvious.

“That my dear is a very profound observation. However, I have no idea….”

Again, she cut him off.

“Oh Lucius, I have truly overstepped the boundaries and I am so sorry, I would never…”

Comprehension finally seeped into his tired, mystified brain, along with unbridled amusement and genuine affection. A combination of emotions that Lucius Malfoy had ever enjoyed.

His smile was unbelievably sincere, and so warm it generated more heat than the gentle fire.  The hand which had still been gently circled around her wrist, took her hand and raised it to his lips. Those grey eyes of his sparkling with the same combination of emotions. In truth Lucius Malfoy wasn’t actually sure where to start with the _horrific revelation_ of Hermione’s, a sentiment he echoed in his words.

“Hermione, I don’t know what to say.”

He watched as her eyes became downcast and if he wasn’t mistaken a little fearful. His free hand came up to her chin and tilted her head backwards, but Lucius being Lucius, he couldn’t resist taking advantage, just a bit……

“I don’t know where to start.” His refined tones stern and more clipped than usual as he spoke.

Hermione reluctantly met his gaze once more. He had every right to be cross, even angry with her. Who the hell did she think she was issuing invitations to her friends to Malfoy Manor, making assumptions that “Lucius wouldn’t mind.”

“Firstly.”

Hermione braced herself.

“I have to admit I am more than a little surprised that Mister Potter would even agree to come to my home.”

He didn’t add after the last time, for fear of the reaction he knew it would stir and the usual ticking off he would incur.

A small frown creased Hermione’s brow, in all honesty that was something else she hadn’t given a second thought to.  Like her own, Harry’s memories of Malfoy Manor would have been far from happy.

“I am however, delighted that he would.”

The start of a smile began to lift Hermione’s lips, relief gradually seeping into her tense body.

 “Hermione, I know you are here to work, for your work.”

His smile was more knowing and far more seductive now. Silently conveying their previous conversation.

“But, you must not put your life or your friends on hold because of that, because you are here.”

He paused briefly, choosing his words infinite care, not wanting to push his luck too far, or overstep any boundaries of his own.

“Or because of me, not in any way. I must confess, I am also, thrilled that you would feel comfortable enough to issue such in invitation.”

Hermione oddly felt the sting of tears prick at her eyes, she had felt comfortable, too comfortable in fact, so much so she really hadn’t given it a second thought, actually she hadn’t given it any thought at all. She found it impossible not to respond to Lucius with the same warm sincerity and honesty.

“In truth Lucius, I didn’t think about it at all, it just seemed such an easy, natural thing to do.”

Lucius didn’t speak, instead Hermione found herself pulled fully into his embrace, sprawled across his powerful body. His mouth moved towards her face, but he didn’t kiss her. For the second time in a very short space of time, she found hushed words whispered against her ear. These were very different words and issued with a very different kind of emotion.

“I’m glad. It’s how _you_ make everything feel.”

Hermione continued to fight with her emotions. That pang of guilt was still there, why she had really come into his home, but as she saw each and every change in him, she felt less and less guilty about it. This was even nicer than how she’d imagined the evening would be, when she left the Manor earlier in the day.

“And talking of Mister Potter and lunch, how was your day?”

His voice was still hushed against her ear, his warm breath soft and reassuring against her cheek.

Hermione didn’t want to spoil this moment, Lucius’ reaction or the way she felt right now with tales of a sulky Ginny Weasley and an even more petulant Ronald.

“Just as I expected it to be.”

She responded to Lucius with same bright, breezy tone, she had left with that morning, hopefully ensuring he would not want to delve too deeply into her day, and after all she hadn’t strayed far from the truth.

“I am trusting that was all good.”

Lucius lips brushed her cheek, not letting her get away scot free. This kind of interrogation she could _put up with._ Seeing Lucius like this assuaged her guilt even more. 

“Mostly.” She went on quickly feeling Lucius tense once more against her.

“Ginny was a little sulky because I hadn’t told her that I was working with you, as her best friend she thought I should have told her first, instead of having to read about in the newspaper.”

Lucius face was just millimetres from her own, there would be no hiding her responses from him, she remained truthful with him, but still kept the details light and sketchy.

“Ronald, well Ronald was just Ronald, you don’t need me to tell you how he feels about you. Even after all this time. So, him acting like a stroppy two year old really was no big surprise.”

Lucius brushed his lips across Hermione’s. Not for the first time she found herself astounded by not only his tenderness, but also how incredibly complacent and protective the kiss was. 

She really had missed everything about this man today, talking about her friends to him just reiterated that, as did talking about his own day. Sharing such simple pleasures, every day ups and downs, was as intimate as anything else they had shared. Getting to know this man in this way was as profound as sharing his nightmares and pain of the past. From his touches, from his words, from his reactions it appeared that Lucius Malfoy had the same feelings……...

 “So, when is Mister Potter accepting your, _presumptuous_ invitation to lunch?” Lucius enquired. Those grey eyes of his twinkling devilishly in the half light.

Despite his obvious teasing, and his good humour Hermione could not withhold the embarrassed heat which flood her face. He might have only been teasing her, he might also have been glad that she felt comfortable enough to extend such an invitation to her friend, but there was no disguising the fact she had, even by Hermione’s standards, been very presumptuous.  Her voice was laced with discomfiture which coloured her face.

“I said I would owl him and we would arrange a date that was convenient.”

Even to her own ears this sounded more overconfident than issuing an invitation to lunch.

The heat in her face, drifted down her neck and she shifted uncomfortably in Lucius’ lap, noticing his face become more serious. Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if, despite his words, he was angrier with her than he was letting on?

She had seen shades of the old Lucius Malfoy before, small flickers here and there, irritation lighting his strong features, arrogance pulsating through his powerful frame, but it had not been directed at her, not in anger or annoyance at any rate.

Lucius not only felt the uneasy shift in weight, and saw the deep blush flare in her cheeks and down her neck, but he sensed how that sharp brain of hers was working.  Perhaps his teasing had been badly timed, she’d clearly been mortified by her own actions, rubbing it in even in fun was not really the gentlemanly thing to do.  He’d hoped his words of reassurance; his choice of words would have been enough. 

Hermione was fond of her gestures of reassurance, they didn’t come as naturally to Lucius. Hermione was equally as fond of telling him to go with his instincts, these he was learning to hone.  

The heat in her cheeks, that had slowly flushed her neck, burned with a very different sensation. The young witch suddenly finding herself hauled with full force across Lucius’ powerful body.  Catching her completely unawares her mouth opened in a surprised gasp and he took complete advantage, his own covering it with a fierce dominating sensuality. His strong fingers seemed to be everywhere, they bit with exquisite pain into the soft flesh of her arm, and they pulled and tangled into her hair.

His mouth suddenly stilled against hers.

“I am very glad that you feel so at home here.”

His lips moved back across hers, his tongue dipping erotically into her mouth, before stilling once again.

“I am very glad that _things_ feel so natural and easy with me.” He said against her soft mouth.

Hermione couldn’t stop the instinctive movement of her body, pressing into his as he spoke.  That he chose actions over words to reassure her, sent waves of delight pulsing through her blood. Everything, absolutely everything was becoming all too easy, and far too natural with him.

 

 


	98. A Flair For Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I hope my little (Large) faux pas did not spoil anyone's enjoyment last week, not sure what happened, will put it down to either Gremlins or Puppy Brain, those are my excuses and I am sticking to them. Although I gather from most of your comments that actually it didn't so thank you. Usually apologies apply this week, hopefully the brain cells will be working ... cannot guarantee, am sure someone will soon spot the non functioning ones.
> 
> Enough waffling from me, have some from Draco instead...ENJOY

 

Just as evenings in April were still cool, so were the mornings. Hermione had woken early, Lucius was still sleeping peacefully, the little devil wanted to wake him up, but it was Sunday morning and Saturday had been quite an eventful day for both of them, she decided to let him sleep. It also seemed very natural and easy, as did the routine they had slipped into.

Through the heavy curtains in the master bedroom she’d seen a chink of bright sunlight and decided she would make the most it, and everything else. Putting on jeans and a thick sweater, she had gone in search of the dogs, they now bounded happily ahead of her.

“Hey Granger.” Draco’s rather out of breath voice called from a way behind her.

“Granger wait up.”

Hermione wasn’t sure if she was more surprised at Draco Malfoy running after her, or quite simply the sight of Draco Malfoy at little after 7.30am.

“Bloody hell Granger do you normally walk so fast?”

Hermione wasn’t aware that she was walking any faster than normal, although on such a glorious morning and with the dogs, she probably was striding out more than she usually did. She gave Draco an apologetic smile.

“You’re out of condition Malfoy.” She accused playfully, as he sat on one of the ornamental chairs.

His face looked a little flushed and she realised it was more than likely not from chasing after her. His slightly self-conscious grin confirming that.

“Just a bit knackered that’s all.” He assured her defensively, although the grin remained firmly in place.

She didn’t comment further. Her relationship with Draco had come on in leaps and bounds, changing beyond anything she could ever have imagined, and they really were friends now. It was however a very new friendship, their past history making them both a little more careful with each other than _normal_ friends. The reason why they had become such friends made it quite an intense friendship at times, and remarkably strong, but she couldn’t wind him up in the same way she could Harry or Ronald, or even his father come to that. 

She had absolutely no idea why Draco had been chasing after her, but assumed that it couldn’t be important or he would have told her immediately. She was sure he would eventually get around to telling her the reason for his early morning run…... Polite conversation seemed the way to go for now.

“Your father tells me that you had a nice day yesterday.”

He nodded, still breathing a tad heavily.

“Thanks of course to you.”

Hermione shook her head. “I wasn’t even here.”

“True, but it was your suggestion, you _bullied,_ me into it”

“Me bully you, as if.” She feigned horror.

“Actually, Miss Know It All” Draco’s eyes narrowed, but all the while sparkling with appreciation.

“We had a _really_ nice day. Everyone enjoyed themselves, including my father and he even suggested they come for a weekend next time.”

Draco’s almost childlike disbelief and enthusiasm was infectious. Hermione had been delighted for Lucius yesterday and was equally as happy for his son now.

“Yes, he said. I think he was actually quite surprised at how much he enjoyed himself too.”

“What did he say to you?”

Draco looked a little sheepish at his sudden line of questioning.

“Sorry Granger.” He realised he sounded as if he was interrogating her.

“I left with my friends, we’d been invited to a birthday party in the evening and I stayed over.”

Again, Hermione was amused by the dark flush which graced his pale cheeks.

“I didn’t get a chance to talk to him, other than to say thanks and bye.”

The younger Malfoy might have flitted off after having lunch with his friends and his father, but it seemed somehow a normal father son thing, which there hadn’t been a lot of before.

“Much the same as you to be honest. That it had been a lovely day.  And only that he knew most of your friends from before, except a couple.”

“Did he mention Astoria at all?” His questioning was a little more cautious this time.

Hermione was back in the minefield, only this time the boot on the other foot.

“He told me what you’d told me before.” This was true and she wasn’t saying anything out of turn.

“That you and she, had seen each other for a while and that he and your mother hadn’t approved or been very hospitable to her.”

The dogs charging around in the gardens were a useful distraction, Hermione didn’t want to be under the scrutiny of Draco’s blue eyes.  She called to them, the white peacocks that roamed the grounds unamused at being chased at such an early hour.

“He was very nice to her yesterday, well he was nice to everyone, the perfect host, but especially to Astoria. I think he suspected we might be seeing each other again.”

“Isa No!  I didn’t think for one minute he would be anything else Draco and neither did you, or you wouldn’t have invited them.”

Draco nodded.

“He is well aware of his shortcomings, the mistakes he has made, and whilst he cannot use a time turner, he can certainly change things going forward. Kauno stop.”

The two dogs trotted back to Hermione’s their large silky heads hung in disgrace, their big eyes looking imploringly at the young witch.

“Behave or I will take you back.”

At the tone of her voice, realising they were not going to be told off any further to the two dogs raced off again. Hermione returned her full attention to the seated Draco, who was clearly amused at her dog handling skills, or quite possibly lack of them.

“Draco your father is not a fool.” She said gently and not too defensively.

“He might not be entirely himself at the moment, and he is distracted from time to time, but there is very little that goes unnoticed by him. He said you and Astoria seemed close, I thought you might have told him.”

“That we are sleeping together?”

The unbridled horror in Draco’s face was quite priceless, matching only his horror when he realised what he’d said to Hermione. An even deeper shade of red sitting nicely upon his cheeks once more.

“Well perhaps you might start out by just telling him you were seeing each other again.”

Hermione withheld a laugh, knowing whatever her friendship was with Draco, he would not appreciate being laughed at especially by her. That feeling of exasperation she often got with Lucius’ son danced in her blood and she found herself being as forthright with him as she always was his father.

“But then again, why not? You are both grown men, _adults_!”

She loved seeing Draco’s blue eyes widen like a house elf, to things that weren’t exactly news to him, but which nonetheless shocked or horrified him in some way.

“I know you two don’t go in for the whole feelings conversation, but you can still be upfront and honest with each other.”

Draco looked warily at Hermione, admittedly and as was normal, he couldn’t argue with what she was saying. He had taken her advice on a few occasions now, talking to his father, even about inviting people to lunch, but this was very different. Feelings weren’t the only things that were not discussed openly in the Malfoy household.

“Would you tell your parents you were sleeping with a man they didn’t approve of?”

Draco’s unexpected, yet totally reasonable question, caught Hermione completely off guard on just about every level, it made her head spin, her heart race and her mouth parch.  If she’d worried what her parents might have thought about Ronald Weasley, what on earth would they have thought about Lucius Malfoy. At least Ronald was her own age and not the father of a classmate. For all of Ronald’s faults and there were quite a few, at least he hadn’t been in prison or been suspected and guilty of all sorts of heinous acts. Her face flushed darkly in same way Draco’s had, earning her, a yes, I thought as much kind of look from her companion.  However, as always with Hermione and especially where her parents were concerned, she would always have wanted to have been honest with them, knowing that whatever happened they would have been there for her, and would have supported her choices. The scenario of telling her mother about Lucius played out in Hermione’s head, sadness ebbing through her veins. It might have been a bit heated, a “but Mum”, type of conversation but Hermione missed the fact it was never going to happen. She met Draco’s smug blue gaze with a fiery brown one of her own.

Draco recognised that look. Whilst he hadn’t annoyed her, he knew he was about to get a bit of a Granger ticking off, a lecture, or, much as he hated to admit it, a dose of Granger common sense, which he would invariably end up thinking about, a lot!

“Yes, Draco I would. I would never have wanted them to be hurt finding out from someone else. Be even more hurt that I lied to them, or to think I didn’t love or trust them enough to tell them.”

Along with the expected lecture and heavy dose of well-placed common sense. There was that past tense reference again, Draco had picked up on it before, but he had found himself lacking the courage to ask the question directly, then and now. However, the cunning Slytherin in him came out, maybe he could get her to tell him more, without actually asking.

“It’s different for girls anyway.” His said sulkily.

“You tell your Mother’s all sorts of…. stuff.”

Despite the rather sensitive subject, Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at Draco’s way with words, it was almost as bad as his handwriting. She had got to know him well enough recently to realise it was a very indirect way of asking her a question, despite his ambiguity, she also knew what that question was. The younger Malfoy had shared a lot with her, including his fears for his father, Hermione felt perhaps it was about time she did the same.  She sat down on the small chair next to him.

“I used to tell my Mum, well both of my parents everything.” She explained quietly and reflectively.

“It was strange sometimes, going home in the holidays and telling them about flying lessons with Madam Hooch or that my potions hadn’t come up to scratch with Professor Snape. That this pureblood in Slytherin House had been horrid to me again or that I’d had tea with a half giant.”

Draco grinned at her references, even if they did include him in not exactly favourable terms, and despite his curiosity, he found himself envying Hermione, sharing her tales of school with her parents during the holidays, that must have been fun. She painted a glorious picture of _normal family_ life.

“Even if they were Muggles.” Draco continued quickly.

“And didn’t understand it all. I bet they enjoyed hearing about what happened at school.”

She didn’t take offence at Draco’s words, nor did Hermione miss the inflection of dejection which had slipped into his voice, it was mixed with envy. She gave him a sharp prod.

“Your father enjoyed hearing about Professor Snape calling me a know it all.”

“He did.” Draco agreed, a tinge of guilty amusement lighting his eyes.

“Actually, I think he appreciated it more now than he would have done at the time.”

This time Hermione agreed with Draco.

“Oh! I know he did, he made no bones about admitting as much.  I miss being able to sit down and talk to my father, hear his laughter. I miss my mother’s wise advice, hearing her comforting voice.”

She trod carefully, she might have been talking predominantly about herself but she was always wary about overstepping, when it came to father and son.

“You and Lucius, you might just have only just gotten around to sharing certain things and they may only seem small, but build on them.”

She saw the questioning look in Draco’s blue eyes but he remained silent.

“My parents are in Australia, they no longer know they have a daughter.”

She saw the look of astonishment Draco’s face, a look still laced with confusion.

“I modified their memories just before the war, to keep them safe.”

The look in Draco’s eyes quickly changed into pity.

“I am not telling you this for sympathy of anything like that Draco.”

She honestly didn’t want his sympathy, just as she hadn’t wanted Lucius’ when she had told him, as with his father, Hermione was telling him to emphasise a point.

“I am trying to tell you to make the most of what you have, of time, and of each other, that despite everything you do still have each other.  I’ve seen you and Lucius together, I’ve listened to you talk about each other, I’ve even heard you talk to each other.”

As always with Draco, Hermione saw slow realisation at what she was saying to him, but he still remained silent.

“You came to me, to ask me to help him, so I know that you love him, that you love each other. It might not be in a demonstrative way but you do.  I just want you both to keep building on what you already have. As I’ve said before it will be good for you …. Both.”

Draco’s face was very serious, Hermione could tell whilst he might not be saying anything, he was certainly taking in her words.

“Telling him about your relationship with Astoria, maybe just that you are seeing each other to start with….”

She gave him a playful nudge, lightening the mood slightly.

“Telling him, well don’t take this the wrong way, it’s a very adult thing to do, especially after what happened before with her.”

Hermione paused briefly, still cautious about pushing the younger Malfoy too far or him not totally understanding what she was driving at.

“It shows forgiveness Draco, it shows maturity.”

Draco’s blue eyes glittered brightly, and Hermione was certain the maturity, was a step too far. But, just like his father, if not more so, Draco Malfoy was surprising the young witch with his hidden depths.

“I’m sorry about your parents Hermione, truly I am, that you had to do that, it’s awful.”

Hermione felt Draco shift on the small seat, his clear blue gaze drifting to the horizon.

“You and I don’t have much in common, but I know what it’s like be backed into a corner for your parents, having to do something truly horrible to help them.”

Draco had become accustomed to Hermione’s little gestures of reassurance, but this one caught him completely off guard, her head coming to rest against his shoulder, giving him the courage to continue to speak.

 “It’s weird and I don’t want this to come out the wrong way either, although I am sure it will. I don’t have my father’s flair with words. But you, telling me about your parents, other than the fact I feel honoured, if that is the right word, that you have told me. But well, I am constantly ribbing you about always being right, if you can be so right about something as huge as what you did for them, well I guess being right about other stuff must be easy.”

He was right about one thing he didn’t have his father’s way with words, but strangely she did know what he meant, what he was trying to say to her, in his own roundabout way. And whilst not as articulate as it might have been she appreciated his jumbled words, and the sincerity behind the sentiment.

“Thanks Draco. But you know, making one huge decision which you hope is right, doesn’t mean that you are always going to be so. The same as making one huge mistake doesn’t always mean you are going to be wrong.”

She pressed her head a harder against his shoulder.

“You know Draco, we have something else in common too.”

She felt him shift against her, his blonde head peering down at her. Hermione raised her brown eyes to meet his.

“What we did, both of us, we did for our parents, because we loved them and because we cared.  Some people might not have approved of either of our methods or solutions, considered them extreme, but to you and to me, we did them for the right reason, love.”

Draco might not have been good with words, but this time he was incapable of speech. He had always seen his own actions borne of fear, never of love. But when Hermione put it like that, he realised what she was saying was true. He had been terrified, oh of course there had been the delusion of the glamour and the power, but in reality, and in hindsight, there had been neither, and underneath it all had just been the desire to help and protect his parents. Hermione had done that too, her sacrifice far greater than his, although that could have been very different too. Without the aid of words Draco Malfoy found himself, using another of Hermione’s reassuring ways, his arm instinctively coming around her back, hugging her tightly. As if Hermione Granger telling him, Draco Malfoy that they had things in common was not quite enough to take in for one morning. Draco Malfoy, sitting in the grounds of Malfoy Manor, hugging Hermione Granger undoubtedly was.

Hermione seemed almost oblivious to Draco’s gesture, certain things surprising her much less these days, instead she found her mind drifting elsewhere. She was certain, a very deep conversation so early on a Sunday morning hadn’t been the reason why Draco had been racing around Malfoy Manor after her. How they had ended up embroiled in one, and on quite such a level, was astonishing, even to her. But then as she had discovered over the last week or so, they had a habit of doing that around here, it really was all or nothing.

And talking of Draco’s out of breath pursuit.

“By the way, why were you chasing after me, was the house burning down or something.” She turned in his embrace to look at him face to face.

Momentarily thrown by the sudden change in conversation, Draco couldn’t think why he had actually chased after her.

“Well it was a good job it wasn’t or I think it might be ashes by now.”

He laughed, suddenly dipping his hand into his pocket.

“I was grabbing coffee in the kitchen and saw you out of the window, a few minutes later and owl came for you, I thought it might be important, it coming here and all.”

He held out his hand and gave Hermione the slightly crumpled envelope. Just like Draco’s spidery scrawl she recognised the handwriting immediately.

“It’s from Harry.” She announced, looking rather surprised.

“I only saw him yesterday, I wonder what he wants.”

Draco laughed again. “And you are supposed to be the smart one Granger, you know how letters work right?”

She bashed his arm, opening the cream parchment. Draco rose to leave, allowing her to read the letter in private. Hermione scanned the contents, she too rising from the chair, catching him up and calling the dogs.

“Everything okay?” Draco asked, not wishing to appear nosy, but actually being precisely that.

“Yes, we agreed to meet for lunch soon, and I said I’d send him some dates. He says he’s getting in first in case I forget.”

“Like that was going to happen.” Draco quipped, enjoying that she had so easily shared the content of her letter with him, but then after their previous conversation, it seemed almost trivial.

Hermione gave the young blonde a sidelong look, wondering how he would react to her _presumptuous invitation_

“It could have, purposely…… I rashly invited him here.”

A slow sidelong look, raised eyebrows and raucous laughter was really not what she was expecting. Just like his father there was absolutely no surprise at her invitation to the Manor.

“Potter here?”

He closed his mouth quickly at the look of consternation on her face. This certainly was proving to be an astonishing Sunday morning and he doubted it was after eight yet.

“Well the issue wasn’t Harry coming here, so much as I had the cheek to invite him.”

Just like his father that fact seemed totally irrelevant and her reasoning, completely lost on Draco.

“Why would inviting a friend to lunch be a cheek, Potter is still you best friend isn’t he”

Perhaps Lucius’ reaction she could understand, with their relationship and all, but Draco’s….

“Yes he is Draco, but you’re kind of missing the point. This isn’t my home. You don’t just go around issuing invitations willy nilly like that to someone else’s.”

“But my father didn’t mind, did he? I mean you’re practically living here.”

His statement about her practically living there, aside. Hermione viewed Draco with incredulity, NO, he was completely missing the point, or maybe she had simply overreacted. Draco’s reasoning almost the same as his father’s, how alike they really were.

“Well I am _only practically living here,_ for work or at least I am supposed to be. I think if anyone other than Kingsley Shacklebolt was my boss I might well be accused of skiving.”

In all honesty, she didn’t feel like she was neglecting either of her reasons for being in this house, the two interacting easily, but someone else might not be as understanding or as reasonable as the current Minister of Magic.

“But you are right, funnily enough your father didn’t mind at all, and laughter aside his reaction was very similar to yours. But I should have at least had the good manners to have asked him first. _”_

Draco’s face became more thoughtful, his blue eyes resting earnestly on Hermione.  

“Whatever else has changed about my father, his Pureblood ancestry never will. He’s a very proud man who respects the old ways and its traditions.”

Hermione had always known this about Lucius, she and Draco had even talked about it before, but in different contexts. She might not have approved of some of those _old ways,_ but she none the less respected his valuing of traditions and his lineage. She wasn’t sure why Draco would mention it now.

“I understand that Draco.” Her tone was quiet, reassuring, she tried to hide her own perplexity.

Draco often wondered just how much his father did, or had already confided in the young witch, did he tell her everything? The everyday trivial stuff, or just the other darker things which had affected him of late _._ Was Draco in fact telling her things that she already knew?  Professional that she was, she never let on, or gave away anything. As he started to speak something told the young blonde, this might be something she was fully aware off. She knew part of the story first hand anyway.

“A while back I told my mother, that Potter saved my life, do you remember?”

How could she have forgotten. It was strange she hadn’t thought about, or recalled the incident in years and now here it was, mentioned twice in less than a week. Perhaps Lucius had said something to Draco, about seeing Harry, about their exchange, but she felt sure Lucius would have told her if he had, he’d told her all of the other things they’d discussed, the uncertainty however, made her air of the side of caution.

“Of course, not a day you could forget easily.”

“I know she told my father, they were close then.”

 “Whether he said anything to anyone, I don’t know. But to a man like my father with those old pureblood values, what Potter did would constitute as a life debt, even if the debt is actually mine, having Harry Potter here at whoever’s request wouldn't be a problem.”

In truth Hermione hadn’t ever even considered this, even after Lucius’ had told Harry, his family owed him a debt of gratitude, it just hadn’t occurred to her. It appeared she and Draco were both full of surprises and revelations this bright early Sunday morning. However, it still didn’t excuse her cheek, but it certainly explained both Lucius’ and Draco’s reactions. If not Draco’s raucous laughter….

“I guess if you and Potter are making lunch plans, yesterday must have gone okay at the Weasley’s then?”

Hermione gave Draco a resigned look, her face speaking more than a thousand words.

“Well we were talking about Harry, so that part went okay. Let’s just say not everyone was as keen to make future lunch dates with me.”

Screwing up her nose at Draco, she gave him the same abridged version she had given his father the previous evening. About Ginny sulking and Ronald just being Ronald.

“Oh well, sod the rest of them.” Draco said nonchalantly, once again draping his arm loosely about Hermione’s shoulder and guiding her back towards the house.

“Who said you didn’t have your father’s way with words Draco?”

There was once again that familiar sound of the two once sworn enemies shared laughter, this time it drifted over the grounds of Malfoy Manor.

 


	99. Fluent in Malfoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well as always thanks for lovely comments and kudos. The usual apologies for faux pas applies, but a little extra in advance one this week, I am in the process of moving house, so updates might be a little slower, I promise nothing tooooooo long, just like this week maybe the odd day or two longer. I won't abandon the fic, it does have an ending and not in the not too distant future, but for now enjoy this one...

 

Hermione wasn’t the only person to receive an owl so early that Sunday Morning.

Lucius awoke to not only an empty bed, his mind and his body more than a little disappointed at the discovery, but also, save the house elves, to an empty house.  Having grudgingly left his bed, he showered alone, his body still looking forward to the plans his mind had made, hoping that Hermione might reappear and join him. Alas he remained alone, he really had gotten very used to her being around, and freshly washed and dressed he had gone downstairs. He had cast a cursory look in the usual places for Hermione, finally going into the kitchen, certain he would find her there with her habitual cup of tea in hand, and the dogs, it too was empty. The absence of his two beloved hounds told the Dark Wizard that all three were probably enjoying an early morning stroll, after a beverage of his own, he would go in search of them.

An irritable tapping on the window interrupted his train of thought. A haughty disdainful looking owl, holding a large rolled parchment sat on the sunlit ledge, an air of impatience surrounding it. With a flick of his hand the window opened and the creature flew in, a waft of cool fresh air coming with it. The bird landed on the table, dropping the scroll of parchment onto the worn wooden surface.

Lucius felt his heart pound in his chest, with Narcissa’s light elegant script on the outside he knew exactly what the papers were. Unrolling them, his keen eyes scanned the official document, with her signature and seal at the foot of the page, Lucius Malfoy could now finally call Narcissa his former wife. Relief, tinged with sadness flooded his bones. Whatever his feelings towards Narcissa were now, he had once loved her very much. They had shared a quarter of a lifetime together, had Draco together, even he could not be totally devoid of emotion.

As he thought of their son, the sound of his laughter drifted through the still open window, through which the owl now gracefully departed.  Glancing up his eyes fell upon Draco and Hermione walking back towards the house, the dogs bounding and barking playfully before them. Draco’s arm was caught casually about Hermione’s shoulders and they walked, talked and laughed easily together. Lucius couldn’t contain the small smile which curved his mouth, feeling none of the emotions he had done that first morning when he had seen them together in the gardens of the manor. He recalled the rage which had simmered away within him, the jealousy which had danced in his blood, but even then, he had seen no sparks or chemistry between the two, just an odd almost uneasy friendship. All of that was gone.  If their friendship had been odd and uneasy, it surely wasn’t now. There was definitely a spark between them, a chemistry of sorts, both coming from gained trust and mutual understanding, respect even, who would have thought?  Certainly not him, and definitely not Draco.

Lucius identified with those things too, but from another perspective entirely, oh, there was definitely a spark between himself and the young witch, which in truth also came from trust and understanding, but it gave way to a completely different kind of chemistry. The kind of chemistry which crackled and fizzed, setting his body on fire. Even now watching her with his son, Lucius felt it, his body felt it, his mind felt it, his heart felt it.

The reflective sadness he had felt about Narcissa gave way to yet more feelings he had rarely enjoyed before, a peaceful deep rooted joy and contentment ebbed through his body.  It was yet another feeling he hoped would never go away. In a few short weeks, for many different reasons his life had changed almost beyond all recognition, in many ways he had changed with it.  It was no longer just a feeling, it was a new life, a second chance. With every fibre of his being Lucius Malfoy wanted everything to remain just as it was at this moment in time.

As Draco and Hermione neared the house he looked at the scroll on the table, toying with secreting it away. A little voice in the back of his head posed the question, “Why?”.

Lucius knew his son would have to know, and sooner rather than later, it was better not to put off telling him. As for Hermione, well he knew she would show her usual concern for both of them, quite possibly in this instance more for Draco than himself.

Two wet noses arrived happily in his lap. His smile and his contentment increasing as he fussed the panting dog’s heads. Draco and Hermione were still talking animatedly, laughter infusing their conversation as they entered the kitchen.

“Is it a private joke or can anyone join in.”

Lucius was sitting at the head of the table, his long fingers toying with the saucer before him. He issued the statement with the same disdainful menace he had done that previous morning, but this time there was nothing malicious about his smile, and his eyes twinkled with amusement and not with suspicion.

The older Malfoy recalled his son’s nervous reaction that same morning, fearing his wrath, this morning, his reaction was also very different. Lucius imperious tone clearly going over his head, his son also seeing the joy in his father face, and responding with a happy naturalness the way any son would to his father’s teasing quip.

“Granger was telling me about, the stupid Weasley kids and having the _cheek_ to invite Potter to lunch.”

“ _The Weasley Kids_ ” Lucius repeated after his son.

“Correct me if I am wrong.” This was issued with an amused don’t you dare tone.

“But aren’t they of similar ages to you Draco?”

Considering it was still quite early, considering he’d obviously had a late night, and considering he was talking to his father, Draco was very sharp, clearly enjoying the banter. Maybe his father’s flair hadn’t passed him by completely but had simply materialised in a slightly more sarcastic way.

“Physically yes, mentally no. Weasley still acts as if he is 12 years old.”

Hermione saw Lucius’ mouth twitch, not sure if he was constraining yet more amusement of his own, or maybe a further retort to his son. Either way his restraint was admirable, if hard won. It was lovely to see them like this, the father son relationship as it should be, not forced in any way, without thought.

Both of them watched as Draco, flopped himself into a chair, glancing around for a house elf. As if on cue Miffy appeared, furnishing the young master immediately with a large mug coffee.

“Some people are just naturally more mature than others Draco.” Hermione offered, her face also struggling to remain straight and playing on he earlier compliment to him.

She took a cup of tea from Miffy, thanking the embarrassed little elf with a smile, Hermione slid into the seat next to Draco, no one looking as if they were going anywhere, anytime soon.

She noticed the parchment scroll on the table but didn’t comment, it looked far more official than her list of dates from Harry, and must have been particularly important to have arrived on a Sunday.  Draco however, whilst perhaps showing more maturity than Ronald Weasley, was nonetheless evidently, filled with childlike curiosity, toying with the edge of the page and clearly desperate to know what it was. Hermione tried to catch his eye, wanting him to tread carefully, but impetuosity won the day as always with Draco.

“Busy morning for owls considering it’s Sunday.” He said, his comment just as before with Hermione, his way of indirectly asking a question.

Hermione’s brown eyes viewed Lucius through the steam which emanated from the cup Miffy had handed her with the piping hot tea.  She saw a familiar flicker of apprehension filter into his face, clouding his sparkling eyes, with it came a deep visibly preparatory breath, his broad shoulders squaring as he spoke.

“Your mother has finally signed the papers dissolving our marriage.”

His statement was perfunctory, flat and without embellishment.

Through the steam, Hermione’s gaze drifted to Draco, just as she had suspected the contents of the cream scroll, much more serious than her list of lunch options from Harry. Lucius’ handsome face, just like his words, was mechanical and dispassionate. She very much doubted that was how he felt. Whatever his feelings towards his former wife, she knew this man could be extremely emotional, he was far from a machine and when roused was incredibly passionate. Despite everything he had been through, what they had been through, ending their long marriage had to hurt. Narcissa was after all the mother of his only child.  

Oddly Draco’s features seemed as schooled as his father’s, she hadn’t expected tears or anything, but she had expected more emotion, even if it had been anger.  The younger Malfoy’s blue eyes were not cold exactly, but he was visibly still hurt by his mother’s actions and that was reflected in their depths.

It wasn’t her place to speak, and Hermione nibbled the inside of her lip, curtailing any instinctive responses, but Lucius’ pale grey eyes caught hers, imploring her to do or say something.

Hermione touched her finger tips briefly to Draco’s as they rested on the table top. Her voice quietly concerned.

“Are you alright Draco?”

He wrenched his hand away. “Yes.” He said with cold, bitter detachment.

Despite her attention to Draco, Hermione, noticed Lucius move in his seat. Her focus momentarily shifting to him, anger flickering in his face, she recognised that look and shook her head almost indiscernibly. In spite of the lack of any outward emotion in his face, Draco’s harsh tone and reaction was understandable. 

The young wizard also cast a glance in his father’s direction, knowing he would not appreciate his attitude with Granger, she was as always concerned and didn’t warrant his irritability. His tone and his body language softened as his gaze moved from his father back to her.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap, it’s just...”

“Understandable.” Hermione supplied for him, not wanting his obvious hurt to be compounded any more, by displays of anger from his father or lack of compassion from her.

“It feels weird.”

Now there was a summation thought Hermione, wondering how to respond, he was fond of weird. She looked to his father, the expression on his face doing little to aid her. If Lucius hadn’t have been here she would have had no compunction in asking his son “how so?” maybe even teasing him a bit to ease the tension, but knowing Draco, and training told her he would not appreciate being asked in front of Lucius.

“Weird?” She heard the single questioning word drift across the quiet room, nibbling harder at her lip at her intuitive curiosity.

It was met with a reticent smile from the younger blonde.

“I told you I don’t have the flair.”

His tone was still flat, but the sharpness had gone, speaking to Hermione just as he always did.

Lucius noticed the small exchange between his son and Hermione, but just as before, his emotions ran a very different path to the ones they once had. Grateful that whatever he was missing, the young witch could reach his son, just as she did with him.

“Weird, because it sounds silly even in my head.”

Hermione didn’t touch Draco again, tactile reassurance wasn’t what he wanted right now, she waited patiently for him to continue, knowing there was an explanation, or at least a Draco Malfoy version of an explanation coming.

“Everything has changed, but nothing actually has at all.”

He shrugged his shoulders, this time looking at his father. Screwing up his words or being inarticulate with the incredibly patient, young woman was fine. She could usually decipher his poor way with them, and had a quite uncanny knack of knowing what he was trying to say, but his inpatient, always eloquent father, well that was a different story entirely. Draco reassured himself that Granger seemed to speak fluent Malfoy and would be able to translate without any problems. His blue eyes once more fell on his father.

“You and mother haven’t been together for ages, not since well before she left.”

He noticed his father’s brow rise, and a slight tilt of defiance move his head. His parents might have kept most things hidden from him, but he’d seen and heard them arguing bitterly. Even though he had tried to ignore it, pretend it wasn’t happening, he had felt the coldness between them and watched the distance between them grow into a chasm. As Granger had said of his father, he too was no fool and he noticed more than people gave him credit for, or than perhaps he admitted, sometimes it was just easier that way. Maybe it was being an only child, or having few friends, Draco noticed the little things which others didn’t, things which usually went unobserved, or alone meant nothing, but putting them all together.  It was a bit like how he’d noticed his father react to Granger that first time, how he did now……... Draco’s voice became a little distracted as he continued.

“This,” He gestured the paper lying on the table. “Just makes all of that official… weird.”

He felt his father’s and Granger’s eyes upon him. Pale grey, more than a little surprised and decidedly confused, honey brown, echoed more concern and expectancy. He wasn’t sure he could satisfy any of them, especially when his brain was spinning of its own accord, with its own amount of surprise, confusion and expectancy.

“I guess I thought I’d be more upset, that I should be more upset, but I’m not. I feel the same, and that feels weird. It doesn’t change anything for me”

Hermione saw Draco’s blue eyes flicker towards his father.

Weird was a difficult word to explain, especially when you were talking about you own feelings, it was supposed to encompass everything, whilst not clarifying anything. She assumed Draco really meant just that, it was how he felt about it all, but he couldn’t even pigeon hole it himself.

“It doesn’t, Narcissa is still your mother.” There was a cold, hard edge to Lucius voice, reminding Hermione of the man of old.

“You are a young man now Draco, not a child, you do not need your mother and I in the ways that you once did.”

The hard, clipped edge remained in Lucius aristocratic tones, but his words were not delivered with any malevolence. As he continued to speak, Hermione knew that tone simply came from how difficult the words were for him to say.

“If you want or need us, we will of course always be there for you. As you say this piece of paper just makes things official for your mother and I.”

As he spoke of Narcissa, he kept his tone civil for the sake of his son, even if his words were dismissive. Lucius really had no idea how his son was feeling, but if he was trying to conceal his own hurt and his anger, Lucius didn’t want to add to either.

“Your mother is now free to do with her life as she pleases.”

As well as the feeling of _weirdness_ , which to Draco himself, was a perfect summation of how he felt right now, indignation flowed into his veins. He was angry at his father’s words, but not at their dismissiveness towards his mother. Whatever his faults had been, were still, whatever he had done, just like his mother, he still deserved peace, his own happiness. Spending time with Astoria and of course Hermione had made him realise that.  

“And so are you father.”

 A peculiar silence hung it the air, it wasn’t awkward, it was more stunned…...

Hermione was determined not to say anything, again it wasn’t her place and again, knowing Draco he would continue in his own way. For Lucius’ part she knew Draco’s uncharacteristic and heartfelt admission had shocked him.

This time she noticed it was Draco who took the preparatory breath. Those house elflike blue eyes darting from her to his father.  Not for the first time, the young witch felt as if she was intruding on what should have been a private conversation between father and son, but she had to admit she found herself rivetted to the spot. Her curiosity was insatiable, even more so when the found herself once more the subject of those wide blue eyes.

A few more feelings wheedled their way into Draco’s already spinning mind, he really should have taken time to have thought before he spoke, but it had never been one of his strong points either. Add that to his lack of articulacy and he really was in the mire up to his neck. He hoped Hermione was as fluent in Malfoy as he assumed, because this might need some serious translation, maybe even bailing out. Every time he opened his mouth to speak, Draco decided that might not be such a good idea and closed it again. The Stunned silence began to develop into that air of awkwardness.

“I am just saying.” 

Well that certainly cleared things up nicely and needed very little interpretation from anyone. Draco could have kicked himself. 

“You need to do some nice things.”

For Salazar’s sack Draco wanted to kick himself even harder. Here he was trying to live up to the maturity Hermione had talked of and instead he was sounding more like that 12-year-old Weasley he’d mentioned himself earlier.

“Having lunch with your friends was a nice thing, having Hermione here, all be it for work is very nice.” Lucius supplied, helpfully.

Draco frowned at his father, that was hardly doing as he pleased, or earth shattering. The younger Malfoy wasn’t sure he trusted himself to put that into words at all.

“I hope doing as _you_ please will involve a bit more than my friends and Granger.”

Draco’s blue eyes, met his father’s grey, they twinkled with a strange mixture of annoyance and something else, he couldn’t figure, it was almost as if he was alluding to something.

“Isn’t that the point Draco, it is what pleases me?”

Hermione felt her face flush at Lucius response to his son. Lucius had already been doing exactly what he pleased.

“However I derive my pleasures, be they big or small.”

Fortunately, Draco’s attention was fixed on his father as Hermione’s flush deepened. Lucius had been deriving a lot of his pleasure from her, she didn’t miss his reference to that, even if it did thankfully go straight over Draco’s blonde head.

Draco found himself picking up on one of those little things again, but like the look in his father’s eyes, he wasn’t exactly sure what **it** was. But his father was quite right, as long as he was enjoying those pleasures, be that lunch with his own friends or time spent working with Granger, as long as he was content and not in that terrible place he was before, it really didn’t matter and Draco was more than happy and unspeakably grateful.     

In that split second however something else occurred to Draco Malfoy, he anxiously ran his fingers through his hair. He and Hermione Granger wouldn’t be there forever. Obviously, Hermione would return to her own home, her own life, they would remain friends of course, but it would be different. And he, well would he stay at Malfoy Manor forever, if he had a family of his own?  

There was no denying the transformation in his father, even Draco could see it. He knew he was mentally much stronger, he was in a much better place than the man who had only a few months ago, often lost himself in bottles of Firewhiskey. He had a very different outlook to the man who grudgingly attended the Ministry Event with him back in February. But fear coursed through Draco’s blood, take away those simple pleasures he enjoyed now and would his father fall back into that desolate dark place he had inhabited before?

As Draco’s gaze once more came back to her, Hermione saw fear in blue eyes. She knew exactly what it was and what provoked it, she had seen it the first time the younger man had spoken to her about his father and several times since.  She gave Draco a reassuring smile, but directed her attention once more to his father.

“I’m sure between us, we could find a few more pleasures for your father to enjoy.”

Her words were a lot more loaded that she had intended, she saw a rather wicked smile lift Lucius lips, outdone only the glint in his eyes, despite the situation, she felt heat course through her body.  In Draco’s eyes she saw visible relief, she also noticed how that relieved look flittered between herself and Lucius.

Hermione Granger definitely spoke fluent Malfoy, both his sometimes pigeon version and his father’s effortless version. She clearly read it just as well, himself frighteningly so, considering the small amount of time they had actually spent together. But with his father it was so much more, they seemed to communicate on an utterly different level. It must have come with the intense conversations he knew, they’d had, the things they had discussed and what his father had confided in Hermione.  Even with his mother, Draco had never seen this kind of connection. That was it, all those little things, it was a connection, a very deep connection.

Draco’s gaze drifted slowly to his relaxed father, prior to Hermione’s arrival, he couldn’t remember the last time he had seen him like this, had he ever? Briefly glancing at the young woman at his side, Draco found himself wondering just _how_ deeply that connection went. Finally, his curious blue eyes came to rest once more on the parchment on the table, the piece of paper that sealed the fate on his parents’ marriage. Weird, that was the word he had used to sum up how he felt before, the notion that was now careering around at full force in Draco Malfoy’s head was seriously weird. However, just as before it didn’t affect him as he thought it might, as it once would have done, he wasn’t angry and he wasn’t upset, not in the least, that was seriously even more weird. Draco found the cogs in his brain whirring in full Slytherin mode.

 


	100. Draco Malfoy, Slytherin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW, my 100th Chapter, never thought I'd ever right a fiction this long, four was my limit at one time. Well I hope you have enjoyed it so far. I am nearly at the end of the story, you are a few chapters behind so a few more to hopefully enjoy. As I said last week, due to TRYING to pack up a house I am a bit behind updates wise but i promise they will still come regularly. My usual apologies for any other faux pas and of course my unending thanks for your support and kind words.
> 
> I decided that the younger Malfoy should have the honour of the centenary chapter, it may not be quite what some of you are expecting but I hope that you enjoy it...

Draco curled his fingers around the warm white china, almost burying his nose in his coffee mug, assuring both his father and Granger, that he was fine, when they commented that he was very quiet over breakfast.

"Sorry I'm just a bit tired it was a long day yesterday and a very late night, early morning."

He gave them both a reassuring smile, running his fingers through his blonde hair for effect.

In truth, the young wizard had never been more awake, carefully but covertly watching the two other people seated at the table with him.

As he sat there thinking about the last couple of weeks, some little things had fallen in to place but in all honesty, they could easily be attributed to the simple fact that Hermione Granger would have had to get close to his father in order to help him, to gain his trust and of course to get him to open up to her. Even some of the bigger things could be put down to the very same reasoning. Draco again cast his perhaps somewhat overactive mind back over the last two weeks, remembering how protective and defensive of his father she had become, but then that was Hermione Granger. She had always been fiercely defensive of her friends, and that was what he and his father were now, extraordinary as that was. And she was just as defensive about him too, even with his father.

Taking a sip of coffee, the younger Malfoy continued to reason with his own mind. Hermione Granger never did anything in half measures, that was something else he knew only too well from their days at Hogwarts. When he'd gone to her for help and she had agreed, there had been nothing half-hearted about her response, a little apprehension maybe, but that was understandable. However, just as always with her, she had given it her full commitment. She was staying at their house for Salazar's sake.

Since she had been staying here, Draco had not been at the Manor every night. Granger had told him to go, that she would keep an eye on his father. Hmm, he wondered just how close an eye? But he could still hardly see that as proof that there was anything else going on. He'd been the one who had gone to her, she'd encouraged him to give his relationship with Astoria a second chance, that was just the way Hermione Granger's logical brain and caring heart worked. And the nights he had been at the Manor? Well the fact his room was shrouded in silencing charms, he would not have noticed a troll battering down the door, let alone any furtive creeping around or  _other sounds_ in the dead of night. Draco scolded himself at that thought, whatever Lucius Malfoy did behind the walls of his own home, let alone his own bedroom door, there would certainly be nothing furtive about it. Draco hid his slightly screwed up nose at the thought, and dare he admit, approving grin amidst freshly ground coffee and fine bone china.

Glancing at his father over the rim of his mug, Draco thought of the things he had said to him. That he was talking about Hermione Granger at all, was strange enough, that he spoke of her now with such high regard, well, Draco could hardly fault, because he himself felt exactly the same way about her, in certain respects at least.

She of course had never revealed anything to Draco, even inadvertently, as well as being very professional, Hermione Granger knew how to keep a secret and from his own experience knew she was loyal to a fault.

His coughing and spluttering shattered the sound of gentle conversation in the large kitchen, warm coffee dribbling down his chin as he struggled to get his breath.

"Draco for Merlin's sake are you alright?"

Hermione's chair scraped over the stone floor as she pushed it quickly backwards, patting Draco hard on the back.

He nodded, still spluttering, finally managing a croaky. "Yeah"

As his breathing returned to normal and the power of proper speech came back, he apologised.

"Sorry, I was thinking about something else, coffee went down the wrong way."

Oh he was definitely thinking about something else alright. What had suddenly flown into Draco's mind was the conversation he'd had earlier with Granger, when she had suggested he tell his father about his renewed relationship with Astoria. Draco had turned the tables on her asking her if she would have told her parents about a man they did not approve of. Not only was he trying to recall her reaction at that point, but his brain was also trying to picture the scene. If she was involved with his father on more than a professional level, he imagined the exchange over breakfast in the Granger household. But her reaction had been, as always, honest and forthright, she hadn't been at all uncomfortable or flustered in any way, and typically her thoughts had been for him.

The young wizard began to think it was definitely his overactive imagination, or that maybe he even wanted it to be something more. He wanted his father to have more nice things to do, to have a proper life, now he was totally free to do as he pleased. In reality however, there was absolutely nothing to indicate that the connection between the two of them had been forged from anything more than her trying to help his father.

Draco knew from some of the interactions he'd had with his father lately, it could get pretty intense, that kind intensity would have deepened the connection between them. No, in Draco's mind for some reason he was now certain the bond between them was far more than simply that.

His fingers tightened in frustration around the mug, his eyes still drifting between his father and Granger, desperately looking for a sign, as if it was going to magically pop out above their heads, surrounded by flashing lights and a deafening fanfare. Something else to add to the many things that Draco Malfoy was not as adept at as he might be, was subtly. Ironically over the recent weeks Hermione Granger had been his guiding light with that, especially when it came to his father. Perhaps it was more a girly trait, he tossed that notion aside, Lucius Malfoy had subtly down to a fine art, just as he did many things. Draco began to wish he was more like his father than just in looks.

Perhaps he needed a female perspective on things, a Slytherin female perspective at that. But that would mean showing his own hand, maybe to satisfy his own inquisitiveness it was a small price to pay. And Well Granger had suggested that he tell his father about his actual relationship with Astoria, she was right about most things, especially when it came to his father.

"Or perhaps  _someone_  else?" His father's words filtered into his head.

Draco felt his face flush, so deep in his own thoughts and not actually about Astoria, well not directly, he hadn't realised that his father was addressing him. He realised what his father had said and what he was inferring, he had opened the door, so Draco didn't have to casually drop it into the conversation.

Draco glanced at Hermione, her brown eyes silently encouraging him, willing him to say something to his father. The small foot which connected with his shin, a not so gentle encouragement. He put his mug down on the table, his brain reminding him there were two goals here, he once again slipped into full cunning Slytherin mode.

"Is it that obvious?" He asked avoiding looking at either of them directly.

"I was going to tell you father, but I wasn't sure how you would react."

Lucius gave his son a slow, wise smile.

"As we mentioned before Draco, the point is what pleases you. It is your life, it is about what makes you happy."

Draco might have a cunning plan formulating in his head, but he appreciated his father's honest words.

"I am however delighted that you have told me, and do not feel the need to keep your relationship a secret."

Lucius felt a rush of warmth and pleasure seep into his veins, he was delighted that Draco had been able to tell him, but he was under no illusions that this was Hermione's influence on his son. The affection he had for both of these young people was immeasurable.

Draco took the Erumpent by the horn.

"Astoria and I were going to meet and have Sunday lunch somewhere, why don't you join us. You too Granger, beats staying here on your own, and I am sure you will remember Astoria once you see her again."

His words came out all of a rush, making Hermione sound a bit like an afterthought.

The young wizard squirmed in his seat, feeling maybe this was a bit too much too soon, but nonetheless still managing to watch his father's reaction carefully, if not Hermione's. The harsh look on his face was not exactly what the younger Malfoy had expected, it was too much too soon.

"I would love to join you both for lunch Draco." He turned his attention to Hermione.

"Please say you will join us, I really don't want to play what's that Muggle expression raspberry?"

Hermione never laughed at Lucius, the odd indulgent smile perhaps, but she never actually laughed at him, well not unless they were laughing together about something, but despite her shock at Draco's announcement let alone his invitation she could help it. Thankfully unlike Draco she had swallowed her last mouthful of tea, so there was no coughing and spluttering involved just pure unrestrained hilarity.

"No"" She exclaimed continuing to giggle. "It's a gooseberry, but thanks Draco I would love to."

Draco noticed the lack of amusement in his father's face as the young witch tried to stifle her amusement. He swallowed hard, laughing at Lucius Malfoy especially like this wasn't a good idea.

"However." Lucius said his voice stern and clipped.

That was it, Draco was convinced Hermione's mirth had caused his father to change his mind. He glared at her, her laughter finally abating. Raspberry, gooseberry, he really had no idea what was so funny or what they were talking about anyway. Hmm, was that a connection he wondered.

"However Draco, if we are all to have lunch together, do you think you might call Hermione by her name. I have heard you do it from time to time but…Granger…you are not 12 years old."

Draco got the Weasley reference and made a mental note to try and remember.

Hermione had recovered her composure from both Lucius' fruity faux pas and Draco's very unexpected invitation, she glanced around the huge kitchen and a thought occurred to her.

"You said you and Astoria were going to meet somewhere for Sunday lunch, any idea where?"

In typical Draco fashion the younger blonde shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"Not really it was all a bit last minute, we'd find somewhere. Why do you have any ideas?"

"Well." She began tentatively

"I am told, I cook a mean Sunday roast, and save a sandwich and some microwaved chilli, I haven't cooked in a while, it would be fun."

"Fun! Yeah right Grang….Hermione." Draco corrected himself quickly, noticing his father's frown.

"We had this conversation the other day, you and I have very different interpretations of the word fun."

Hermione wrinkled her nose, recalling the conversation only too well. After her cheeky invitation to Harry, she thought she best check with the Master of the House that she was not taking yet more liberties in his home.

"Lucius, do you mind me having the run of your kitchen?"

The older Malfoy did not trust himself to speak, it was a simple innocuous request, but somehow to him it spoke volumes, touching something very simple inside of him. She wanted to actually physically cook for him and Draco, only house elves worked in the kitchen at Malfoy Manor, but Lucius Malfoy knew that cooking in this way meant an awful lot in the Muggle world, he was touched beyond words, the scene of domesticity adding to the warm glow that already permeated his body. Eventually he found his voice, trying not to sound too gushing in front of his son.

"If you are sure, after all you are a guest in this house."

Hermione knew Lucius old values too well.

"It would be my absolute pleasure honestly, and my kitchen is like a broom cupboard compared to this." She gave Lucius a conspiratorial smile.

Draco noticed the small exchange between them, but they were just talking about kitchen's….

"Then that would be lovely Hermione, I am sure that you will find everything you need in cupboards, the elves will…..."

"No the elves will not do anything Lucius, except perhaps tell me where things are."

Even after two weeks at Malfoy Manor, house elves were still a contentious subject. Hermione accepted their presence, because she was a guest in this house. But she treated them with the same respect she did Lucius and Draco, only accepting their help if it was absolutely necessary. Finding her way around a kitchen bigger than her flat was a necessity.

Desperate to avoid the ever touchy subject of house elves, Draco left the kitchen to flue call Astoria with details of lunch, fill her in on his suspicions and of course appraise her of his cunning plan. He cast a quick look back at the two people still seated at the table. He had to admit they looked as romantically involved as Argus Filch and Dolores Umbridge, his father summoned the house elves and with that he closed the door.

Perhaps it was just his imagination or even wishful thinking. Wishful thinking that his father was having some sort affair with Hermione Granger, Salazar's shirt maybe he'd had too much to drink last night and was still under the influence.


	101. The Potato Prophecy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well as always my grateful thanks for kind words and understanding at slight delays in posting. You have a few more chapters ahead of you, but I am on the home stretch and reckon I have about another half a dozen or so to write before I wind this up. As usual I apologise for whatever may have slipped through the spell check or grammar police net. I have also been a little naughty here, so I hope you will forgive me and just enjoy...

 

The house elves that Lucius had summoned to the kitchen were dreadfully confused and extremely nervous. They couldn’t understand why Miss Hermione was going to cook; they were quite used to her coming into the kitchen and making tea, she did that all the time, even the odd sandwich, but not dinner for the Master and the Young Master.

“Have we done something wrong?” Miffy asked fearfully, her huge eyes darting back and forth from Lucius to Hermione.

“No of course not.” Hermione hastily assured Miffy and the others that they hadn’t, for fear they would start inflecting harm upon themselves.

That the Master sat at the table looking on, a mixture of superiority and amusement lacing his handsome features, really didn’t help the situation in the least. It made the timid little creatures even more nervous, and but for the aid of magic, things would have been broken, and the floor would have been awash with the eggs and flour destined for a Yorkshire pudding.

In the end Hermione decided enough was enough, either Lucius had to go or the house elves did. She honestly didn’t much fancy her chances of evicting the clearly absorbed Master of the House from his own kitchen, so it would have to be the elves.

There was a large blackboard at one end of the kitchen, she had no idea why, it looked as it had never been used. At its base, a lip held a collection of coloured chalks, Hermione smiled, it reminded her of Professor McGonagall’s transfiguration classroom, on it she wrote the things she needed the house elves to fetch for her. Amidst the clicking of fingers and rapid, muffled chatter, an array of pots, pans, and ingredients found their way onto the island in the centre of the room. The items vanishing from the board as they were duly acquired.

“Are you sure there is nothing else we can do for you Miss Hermione?” Miffy asked looking anxiously at Lucius.

Six enormous eyes then became fixed on Hermione, they were plainly desperate for something else to do. Feeling guilty, that she had not only stolen their jobs, but had also made them feel so uneasy, Hermione relented and suggested that they might like to set the table in the dining room, for four.  The sound of house elves apparating filled the kitchen like party poppers on New Year’s Eve.

“You really are very diplomatic, if somewhat of a soft touch my dear.” Lucius mused from his vantage point.

Hermione’s eye’s narrowed at him, he looked incredibly relaxed and now quite at home in the kitchen, his eyes twinkling at the scene which had unfolded before them.  She certainly wasn’t going to get into a discussion about her feelings on house elves, not when she had volunteered to cook lunch in a relatively strange kitchen.

“I prefer the kitchen to myself when I am cooking, it’s just what I am used to.” Her tone was firm, her eyes daring him to challenge her, even if it was his kitchen.

Lucius got the impression that was a less than veiled threat, but he always enjoyed the feisty side of Hermione.

“Are you throwing me out of my own kitchen?” He enquired with his own brand of velvety menace.

Quite an irony considering that until she had arrived at the Manor, it wasn’t exactly a room he was familiar with, this timbre of his voice sending a fearsome thrill down her spine.  She recovered enough just to keep the authority in her own tones.

“Are you going to get in my way?” She asked with equal threat, taking a bowl and adding flour and eggs to it, brandishing a whisk in Lucius’ direction.

His eyes drifted to the metal utensil that she waved like a wand. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good.” She said lowering the whisk into the bowl and gently blending the ingredients together, adding a pinch of salt.

“So, what do you intend to do exactly?” She queried, her concentration moving from bowl to Lucius and back again.

Lucius made a show of making himself more comfortable in the wooden chair, pushing it slightly back from the table and crossing his long legs.

“Truthfully, I thought I would just sit here and watch.”

Hermione was drawn mesmerically to his actions, not missing his slow deliberate movements, she flushed beneath his intense gaze. Dragging her attention back to her task, she finished her whisking and placed the mixture in a cooling cupboard.

Hermione didn’t use magic in her own kitchen, she hardly needed to, she could practically reach everything from one spot.  But here in the Manor’s expansive kitchen, she allowed herself some small concessions, sending the potatoes and the carrots to the table where Lucius was seated. Picking up a sharp paring knife she joined him at the table, his gaze still fixed firmly upon her as she began to peel.

A small smile lifted her lips as she recalled the first time she had been in the kitchen with him, quite possibly the first time he had been in the kitchen at all, she had teased him about it. How different he had appeared after the preceding few days, when he told her how at home she looked. But glancing at his face now, he no longer seemed so relaxed, appearing distant and distracted. The cream scroll sat alongside the vegetables, and Hermione wondered if he was perhaps thinking about Narcissa. Whatever outward façade was in place, she refused to believe, he wasn’t hurting just a little bit.

 

Lucius picked up a potato, rubbing at the earth on its skin with his thumb, his gaze now fixed sightlessly on the tuber. Dragging his thumb back across the skin, his nail scraping at the dark outer coating, just as Hermione’s sharp knife did. Hermione knew his mind was somewhere else entirely now, it had been a while since she had seen him like this, instinctively she wanted to reach out and touch him, but she didn’t, her hands remaining on the knife and the potato as she continued with her chore. 

“I peeled vegetables in Azkaban.” He said quietly, his tone as distracted and distant as his face.

The glittering steel of Hermione’s blade paused momentarily. 

“Potatoes and carrots too, for the so called soup.”

His eyes drifted from the vegetable to Hermione.

“Apart from the watery gruel and dry bread, it was all we got. I was quite good at it, not taking too much of the flesh with the skin.”

Hermione said nothing, it was the first time he had mentioned Azkaban since the incident in the shower.

As if it wasn’t difficult enough to put it behind him, there were so many small, everyday things to remind him at each turn. Even after spending time in and at Azkaban she had never for one moment envisaged the inmates having to do menial tasks, things that were done in a Muggle prison. The odd thing was, she got the feeling that this was a good memory, if there was any such thing to be had in that hell hole. But she supposed in comparison to days of endless nothing, and nights of terror filled blackness, something to do, to distract you, even the peeling of a potato was a joy.

“But we were not allowed such sharp instruments.” His tone was hushed and reflective once more, his line of sight now fixed on the glittering steel edge of the blade.

“For fear we might hurt others…or ourselves.” He continued in equally hushed tones.

Lucius paused, a sensual moment in a small shower, and a dirty vegetable, who would have thought such mundane things would trigger such painful and such powerful memories. He continued to watch, Hermione’s slender hand didn’t waver in its task, but he knew full well she was hardly paying any attention to what she was doing, if perhaps not her vision, but her focus was solely on him.

“I had already hurt so many others.” He noticed her hand falter ever so slightly.

He lifted his eyes to her face, her hand stilled completely and her eyes met his.

“Hurting myself ….” His voice trailed off, Lucius felt his throat constrict around the words.

In her peripheral vision Hermione noticed his thumb once again scratching at the potato, his nail had completely broken through the darker outer layer and was clawing at the creamy white flesh beneath, the action evoking memories of how he had scraped at his own skin, leaving it raised and sore, even drawing blood.

“I was too much of a coward…. I was too scared to….” He couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud not even to Hermione.

“But hurting myself in some means, it wasn’t just a way of punishing myself for what I’d done, it proved to me I was real, that I was actually alive.”

His voice cracked again as he struggled with his words.

“In some strange way amidst all the chaos in my head, the awfulness around me, it made me feel like I was in control of something.”

Lucius wanted to ask her if that made sense, in his own mind he knew it didn’t. But more than that, for once he didn’t want to hear her voice. He knew she wouldn’t pity him, she never pitied him, she would probably reassure him, she always reassured him. But he was frightened she would be hurt and he couldn’t bear to think he’d hurt her, not in any way.

Lucius hadn’t intended to say any of the things he had, in fact when Draco had left them alone, his mind and his body had been thinking along very different lines, wanting to make up for finding his bed empty for starters and the kitchen table for seconds. How his mind had gotten to here he had no idea. Could a small grubby vegetable really have lead him to this point, really made him disclose such a dark feeling, such an appalling secret? He looked sadly and shamefully at the young witch.

Whatever Lucius told Hermione, confided in her, admitted to, no matter how big or how small, she never demeaned him, or belittled him. She never judged him and always tried to reassure him, and show him compassion without pity. Occasionally she would tease him but only when the situation allowed, she always pushed him, sometimes to his limits, and was always utterly truthful with him, whatever the situation, none of those things were going to change.  In the relatively short time Hermione had spent with him, gotten to know him, she had developed an uncanny understanding of the Dark Wizard, from the most carnal of levels, to the very darkest. 

Occasionally when Lucius told her something, admitted to something, or confided in her, she knew he wasn’t looking for an answer, and he didn’t want to discuss it. He quite simply wanted her to know, he needed her to know and by the same token, he just needed to tell her. This was one of those times.

The sharp steel of the knife Hermione was using, swiftly parted the skin from the wet pale flesh beneath, she held it up like some precious stone, admiring her handiwork. Turning the knife around she extended her hand to Lucius, the handle facing him.

“Let’s see how good you are then Mister Malfoy.”

Her brown eyes twinkled with challenge, with understanding and with the deepest affection, the dull blankness lifting from his. His focus now totally on her.

In reality, Hermione was very new to what she did, in the Muggle world she would be quite inexperienced, her job taking many more years of training than she’d actually had. But in the wizarding world, her knowledge and her training were more than enough to help those who needed it. 

Even in the short time she had been practicing it, she had found that with Lucius Malfoy it was different. Well that was a bit of an understatement, things with Lucius Malfoy were completely different. Her training was of course useful, but she found herself relying more on her own common sense and nearly always driven by her instincts, her feminine instincts at that. She had soon discovered, one of the best tactics with Lucius was replacing bad memories with good ones. It became a good coping mechanism for him.

In some ways, he was a very easy _patient,_ she didn’t like to use that word in relation to him. He really did just need someone to talk to, to repeatedly reassure him that he was not alone, to tell him that he was safe, and that Azkaban was in the past, that so much was in the past.  That people cared, she cared, a great deal.

 In other ways, Lucius Malfoy was one of the most complex people she had ever talked too. His mind set not just because of what he had done, but instilled over many, many years, and simply as inherent as the way he did things.

 

Hermione Granger also knew something else about Lucius Malfoy, right from that first evening at the Ministry event, that however much he had been traumatised, broken even, by Azkaban, by circumstances, by other people, pandering to his ego or challenging him some way, was a sure-fire way of cutting through everything and reaching the man she now knew, touching at that man of old. Even if it was with a helpless vegetable.

He took the ebony handle from her grasp, his fingers brushing hers as he did so. Her touch connecting him with the present, the small knife with the past. Lucius understood he still had to comes to terms with much of what had happened with one to be able to be able to fully appreciate or enjoy the other.  Without this young woman, Lucius also understood he could do neither and would most certainly not want to.

The small sharp paring knife, replaced his thumbnail.  The tip carefully scoring one end of the potato, lifting the skin away from the flesh, it was paper thin and remained so as in one constant and very fluid movement the Dark Wizard continued.

Hermione watched Lucius, his pale grey eyes fixed with intent and concentration, she wasn’t entirely convinced that either were on the hapless vegetable. Hermione watched Lucius, his pale deft fingers moving the knife with surgeon like skill and precision, turning the potato minimalistcally. Finally, the peeling dropped onto the table, still in that one long unbroken piece, very even and wafer thin.

Lucius was reminded of the hellish prison once again, as like Hermione he held the freshly peeled vegetable aloft like some prized gem.

“At least if I drop this…...”  He mused aloud, his voice harsh and still a little detached.

“It will not shatter in a thousand tiny pieces, I will not be sent to Azkaban, nor will I incur the wrath of the Dark Lord.

Hermione watched Lucius exceedingly carefully, she knew exactly where his memories and the innocuous tuber had taken him. Judging his frame of mind. In his tone she detected flippancy, but he none the less remained distracted his eyes distant. For Draco and Astoria’s sakes she didn’t want him to be melancholy or upset in any way. Making light of his words could have an undesirable effect too. For once Hermione found herself uncertain with the Dark Wizard, had it just been the two of them to consider she wouldn’t have thought twice about her words. But she definitely didn’t want to suffer double Malfoy wrath, upsetting Lucius before Draco’s guest arrived and then getting it in the neck from his son.

The little devil had decided to rear his ugly head and join the fray, poking Hermione firmly in the gut, urging her to keep with her instincts. She had after all become quite skilled at handling Lucius Malfoy, in more ways than one.  Her face was deadly serious as she looked into Lucius’.

“Hmm perhaps not, but it will be inedible, you will be banished from the kitchen and you will most certainly suffer the wrath of Hermione Granger."

Narrowed, no nonsense chocolate collided with wide, shocked silver. 

His gaze switched from the young witch to the pale creamy oval he held in his hand.

“Do you think it’s prophetic?” He asked turning it gently as if were made of the same spun glass.

Inwardly Hermione breathed a heavy sigh of relief, the little devil smirking with a “A see I told you so” kind of look. Her mind raced, desperately searching for something clever and visionary to say.

“No, I think it’s a Desiree.” The relief had turned, clever and visionary, into smart and sarcastic.

Considering where Lucius’ thoughts had taken him, Hermione wasn’t sure her smart and sarcastic retort was appropriate, she chewed on the inside of her lip.  But wherever, his thoughts had been, wherever his memories had taken him, she’d been absolutely right, he didn’t want to talk about them, he just wanted her to know. She saw his twinkling grey eyes snap back to the here and now.

“Desire, now that was what I was thinking when Draco left.”

Ever the wordsmith and purposely mishearing her, his sparkling silver gaze, looked right passed the firm creamy flesh in his hand, fixing resolutely on Hermione, and her pale creamy flesh.

As heat flooded Hermione’s body, a plethora of thoughts invaded her mind, including what about lunch, and more importantly what about Draco? That sparkling silver gaze, didn’t leave her for a moment, watching his hand move effortlessly, and he a muttered incantation under his breath. The remainder of the vegetables shed theirs skins, peeled and sliced themselves before jumping into an array of polished copper pans on the Aga.

The table was clear save, the parchment scroll; Lucius viewed it with an odd look on his face, before casting it too to another surface, now the table was completely clear, that sparkling silver gaze, now glittered with devilish intent.

 

Having spoken with Astoria via floor call, Draco wandered back to the kitchen to inform his father and Hermione that she would be there about 1pm. Something, he had no idea what, stopped him bursting into the room with his exuberant news. Instead he gently and quietly cracked the heavy wooden door open.

His breath catching in his throat, as he saw his father leaning towards Hermione, something glinted in his hand, even from this angle, the younger man could see it wasn’t his wand. His heart flew into his mouth, pulsating erratically in his ears, it was a knife.

Draco had no idea what to do, his blue eyes flew to the young witch, she remained seated, looking up into his father’s face, he couldn’t see her expression, but her body language didn’t seem to display fear, perhaps she was used to situations like this.

Draco’s mind was frantic, his hands were shaking along with the rest of his slim frame. He had really thought they’d got past this, that his father’s displays of violent rage were behind him. This was his fault.  Hermione’s words resonated in Draco’s ears, barely audible over his pulsating heart, “sometimes you can do more harm than good.” What on earth did he do? What could he do?  The last thing he wanted was to go blundering in and make things worse, worse? Could it be any worse? An array of immobilising spells went through his mind, could he really cast one on his father, but Hermione was in…… he heard something clatter onto the table. The ebony handled knife glinted as it hit the solid wood, his father was still moving ominously slowly towards Hermione, his darkly clad form looming imposingly over her petite frame. Draco felt his wand in his pocket, in his hand. His other hand tightened around the door handle, he raised his wand, wanting to close his eyes, could he really do this to his father?

He opened his mouth about to cast the spell, his knuckles whitening on both the metal knob and his wand. A slow, exceedingly Slytherin smile curved his thin lips, his fear and horror abating immediately. Any other feelings he might have at one time felt, were well and truly superseded by overwhelming relief and an ever more overwhelming……. “I knew it.”  

His ferocious grip on the door handle slackened and he slipped his wand back into his pocket. He should have quickly and quietly closed the door, but found himself somewhat voyeuristically rooted to the spot, as his father kissed Hermione, very slowly, very deliberately and very thoroughly. Watching with equal intensity as the young witch was dragged easily from the chair, like a limp doll she was pulled against his father’s powerful frame, in the silence of the room, Draco heard her moan against him, pushing the door to, but not quite closing it, his blue eyes inexplicably fixated on the erotic scene unfolding before him.

 

 


	102. Master of the House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in getting this chapter to you. Continued thanks for kudos and lovely comments. Also apologies for any errors you may spot that I didn't.
> 
> A little like minded thinking going on here......

 

Just his imposing presence was arousing and totally overwhelming, but there was always, nearly always, that tiny little part of Hermione’s brain which thought sensibly, despite her body’s best efforts to overrule it.

“But, lunch.” She breathed.  

“Draco, the house …” Her protests were silenced by his marauding mouth.

A mouth which she had once guided and encouraged, now needed no such direction or incitement. At least with her, it was becoming abundantly clear, the dark wizard now thought as a man first, a Malfoy second…. well almost.

“I am no longer in control or master of many things Hermione.” His words were whispered against her mouth, peppered between deep kisses.

“But I am still master of this house.” His tongue danced along the seam of her partially open mouth.

“I do what I want.”

She gasped against his tongue, as gently and warningly he nipped her bottom lip with his sharp white teeth. The small exquisite sting of pain briefly registered in her brain. His eyes glittered with more menace and intensity than the metal blade of the paring knife had done.  Excitement laced with the tiniest bit of fear raced through her veins.

Hermione couldn’t hold that penetrating and dangerous silver blue gaze, her eyes flickering shut under the mounting erotic and passionate pressure of his mouth.

“When I want.”

His tongue slowly caressed hers with that same velvety menace, threatening her with the promise of intoxicating pleasures to come. She felt him move back, her eyes still closed, heightening all of her other senses, every one of them as always, totally overwhelmed by this man. His warm breath fanning her face as he continued to speak in those clipped, noble, kiss peppered tones.

“Do I make myself clear Hermione?” His tone remained deliciously intimidating, his words no idle threat.

His sensual mouth, like a mink glove as it brushed the length of hers with a kiss which started at one corner of her mouth and moved, languorously to the other, before stopping. She knew he was waiting for an answer.

“Mmm.” Was all she could manage in this instance.

Hoping for another question or statement which would be accompanied by quite literally further oral delights. That small sensible part of the young witch’s brain was also drowning under the onslaught of pleasure, and undoubtedly being mesmerised by the utter male dominance. Lunch, Draco and the house elves she had been about to mention, no longer ever a thought.

Her eyes still firmly closed against that pleasure, allowing her senses to savour him, Hermione felt Lucius long finger trace a gentle yet equally intense path from just below her ear, along her smooth jawline, stopping to tilt her head back. His mouth left hers, but she could still feel the warmth of his breath against her upturned face, and even with her eyes closed, she could feel the burning intensity of his eyes.  Finally, she allowed hers to drift open, sensing that Lucius wanted her to look at him.  There was that little frisson of fear once more, this time it dominated the excitement. Her mouth went a little dry and she tried not to chew the inside of her lip.

 

A day or two ago, Hermione Granger had called him her lover. He liked it, how it sounded, and he had made no bones about telling her. She had in turn told him, it was what he was, and it was a nice word to call him. Despite the at times humorous, but rather deep conversation which had ensued, and despite what had come out of it, Lucius felt it lacked clarity, no Lucius felt that he had lacked clarity.

He had hoped Hermione might continue to sleep in his bed, after their conversations about his past were exhausted, that’s what he had said, but what had he really meant? The conversation had changed direction rather quickly and his initial question, if it had been a question, had gone around in his head many times since. Perhaps it had been because, in the moment he wasn’t entirely sure, what he wanted, what he was asking of Hermione.  But waking up in his empty bed this morning, having her cooking lunch for him and his son, being able to confide such things in her, not to mention do what he had been about to do, over his own kitchen table, now he was very sure what he wanted, what he was asking of Hermione.

Lucius Malfoy had not wanted to relinquish Hermione Granger any time soon. Now Lucius Malfoy did not want to relinquish Hermione Granger at all.

He did not want to have to question any of those things, or anything else besides. He did not want to question himself or her, he just wanted to be able to do them. He did not want to go to bed at night sleeping next to her, with any fear. His fear of the past still haunted him, still gave him nightmares, but his fear these days, was not so much of Dementors, or Azkaban, of torture and the Dark Lord, but whether tomorrow would be Hermione’s last day in his house, that he would have to confront all of those other fears without her, that his life would go back to the awful darkness of previous months.  Lucius no longer wanted to live with, or in fear.

The passion which had coursed through his blood only moments earlier was now replaced by terror, a very different kind of terror.  But he had to know, one way or another he had to know. Fear and uncertainty were two other things he wanted to leave firmly in the past.

Hermione was looking directly into his face, a face so close to his own. He couldn’t resist brushing his lips to hers once more, this time their softness, their receptiveness gave him the courage he was often so lacking.

Hermione saw something very different reflected in Lucius eyes, behind the passion, behind the menace was that hint of uncertainty she had seen so many times before. This time he was trying so desperately to hide it, she hadn’t seen him trying to conceal his emotions from her in sometime, but there was something different about his trepidation as well, something even she couldn’t read in that face she had come to know so well. She felt him take one of those familiar steadying breaths, his fingers still resting against her face as he spoke. His words this time not peppered by kisses.

“I want to be perfectly clear Hermione.” His tone was once more, firm, but laced with gentility.

The fear in her veins, began to abate, she knew what Lucius was about to say was serious, but somehow, she instinctively knew not to by what he was about to say. She nodded briefly against his hand.

Lucius’ brain raced, not wanting clarity to come out sounding like a demand. His tone mollified, his fingers softly caressing the skin beneath them.

“The other day, we spoke of being lovers.” He could hear his own voice, despite the softness he felt in his mind, in his heart, he could still hear his tones clipped and a little harsh.

“I said I hoped, that once we had exhausted our conversations you might still sleep in my bed.”

He saw a small frown cross Hermione’s brow and continued quickly.

“It’s not what I hope.” He saw the frown deepen, and if he wasn’t mistaken, a little sadness creep into the honeyed brown depths of her eyes.

Despite all of their conversations, the feelings and admissions he’d made to this beautiful, caring young woman, he felt he was making a real mess of this. Why was it so bloody difficult to be articulate when he needed it most?

“It’s what I want.” He finally said quite simply.

Hermione had taught him many things in recent weeks, instincts, going with your gut, as she called it. And of course, that overwhelming honesty, he stuck with all of those, just voicing his thoughts, from moments before. And as before, be it good or bad Lucius had to know. One way or another she would leave, if it was now because of what he was saying, asking, then so be it. He continued with his candour.

“I hate the fear I live with Hermione; however, I am slowly coming to terms with it. But the one I cannot come to terms with, the one I do not want to live with is that today, tomorrow or the day after that, will be your last day in this house.”

He saw her brown eyes widen and tried desperately to read her reaction.

A few days ago, Hermione had wondered what exactly Lucius Malfoy had been asking of her, overjoyed at both conclusions her mind had come to, she had responded generically and with subtly, but nothing much had really changed. Today Lucius was making it very clear what he was asking of her, telling her what he wanted. Her mind was utterly overjoyed, no longer drawing any conclusions, only presented with facts. Hermione liked facts, that little part of her brain which thought sensibly, with clarity and with logic, liked facts and this made everything absolutely clear, not only in her own mind, but also in Lucius’. She was no longer in any doubts as to what he wanted, if she was crossing any boundaries, or reading too much into something. His mind well, part of it at least was obviously on a par with her own.  Generic subtly, quite literally flew out of the kitchen window.

Hermione _slipped_ Lucius’ almost restraining fingers, her mouth connecting with his.

“I hate waking up in your bed.” She spoke against his lips.

Her tongue danced along the seam of his mouth, partially open as it inhaled sharply in shock at her words.

“Wondering if it might be the last time I might do so.”

He gasped against her tongue, gently and warningly she nipped his bottom lip with her sharp white teeth, the small exquisite sting of pain briefly registered in his brain. Her eyes glittered with more brightness than the metal blade of the paring knife had done. Excitement laced with disbelief raced through his veins.

Lucius held that beautiful, warm honey brown gaze, but his eyes flickered shut under the erotic and passionate pressure of her mouth.

“I don’t want to feel that way.”

Her tongue caressed his with velvety sweetness, threatening him with the promise of intoxicating pleasure of many mornings to come. He felt her move back, his eyes still closed heightening all of his other senses, every one of them as always, totally given over to this incredible young woman. Her warm breath fanning his face as she continued to speak in those soft, reassuring dulcet, kiss peppered tones.

“Do I make _myself_ clear Lucius?”

Her sensual lips brushed the length of his with a delicate kiss which started at one corner of his mouth and moved unhurriedly to the other, before stopping. He knew she was waiting for an answer.

 “Mmm.” Was all he could manage in this instance.

Hermione rose from the wooden chair into the full embrace of the dark wizard. Every part of her was singing, and alive with desire. She really wished she hadn’t offered to make lunch, the only thing she wanted to do in this kitchen right now had nothing to do with cooking. There was certainly some heat being produced and there was definitely some boiling occurring but not a single appliance had been turned on. The only things which had turned on were both decidedly human.

As well as the desire in Hermione as she came flush against him, Lucius felt an air of tension in her, he knew lunch would be ready when it was ready, the house elves were always around, but he knew she was very aware of Draco’s presence in the house and of the situation. He was mindful of those feelings, but also of the heat beneath his fingers, the heart that beat frantically against his own and the small hands which tried desperately not to connect intimately with him.

He once more drew back from Hermione, his face flushed from his own need. His pale blue grey eyes shining fixedly.  

“When I want.” He said again, a smirk curving his lips as he lifted Hermione onto the old wooden table.

Hermione again saw the flicker of the Lucius Malfoy of old, it had an uncanny habit of rearing its head in these situations and it sent that familiar thrill surging through her. He raised his hand sharply, the loss of contact from her skin leaving her feeling bereft, a string of incantations shrouded the room in charms to prevent unwanted interruptions and Hermione finally found herself lifted swiftly onto the worn oak.

Her brown eyes didn’t leave his glistening silver blue for a moment, savouring the look of gleaming purpose that flickered in their depths. She swallowed hard trying to control her breathing.

“And where I want my dear.” He reiterated.

Hermione all but shivered at his tone of voice, velvety smooth as it had been, but with that delicious hint of darkness that she found so unthinkably exciting.  She noticed Lucius lick his lips, suddenly feeling that something on this table were about to be devoured and that she was the main course. She couldn’t repress the tremor which ran through her, or the soft moan which fell from her lips at the thought. It was like a murmured summoning of a dinner gong and Lucius took his place at the table, closing the small gap between them. With another wave of his hand and a muttered incantation, Hermione found herself _peeled._ He pulled his sweater over his head, shaking his blonde hair free, Hermione thought she would sauté herself, if he proceeded to remove his clothing in this unhurried way. Evidently Lucius lost patience too and his own clothing vanished in the same magical fashion as hers.

Her breathing shallowed as he lent over her, her eyes fluttering shut once more as his mouth connected with hers, his kiss moving from soft and gentle, to rougher and more demanding. Hermione responded with equal force and passion, loving the feel of him and the scenario itself. Heat careered through her body as the picture manifested in her head, the library was one thing, the kitchen another story entirely, talk about if you can’t stand the heat…. but she was loving this particular heat and Lucius could turn it up as much as he wanted.

His tongue moved against hers as it slipped into her mouth, power and passion emanating from every pore of his body, everything about him telling Hermione he was in control, _where he wanted and when he wanted._ She moaned against his mouth, at his touch, simply at the thought. One hand was buried in her hair and he tugged on it hard, forcing her head back and allowing his mouth to drift over the slim column of her throat. His other hand moved slowly up her leg, over her bare thigh to her hip, eventually it met his lips at her breast, his fingers kneading and squeezing, his mouth nipping and sucking. Hermione cried out in surprised pleasure, heat spreading from her cheeks, following Lucius’ path down her neck and deep into her breast where it throbbed in agonised delight between his fingers and lips.

He freed his hand from her hair placing it on her shoulder, pushing her backwards so she was lying on the table, that worn wood, smooth yet rough at the same time against the bare flesh of her back. Now she was truly spread out before him, like his very own feast. His mouth never left hers, his tongue sliding erotically along hers, his body moving sweetly and seductively against her. She arched her back from the table, moving into his touch, moving into him, his hands sliding over her body, caressing and teasing everything they touched. He caressed the curve of her hip, squeezed her slender waist, brushed a tormenting thumb over and increasingly sensitised nipple and traced a bone in her shoulder. The other hand did the same only harder and slower, pausing to circle her nipple, causing her to gasp into his mouth as the tips tightened around the raised bud, his mouth suddenly leaving hers to trail back down her throat and take the swollen peak in his hot mouth, sucking mercilessly on the raised flesh.

His hands and mouth continued to play seductively with her body, dancing along her skin kissing and touching it, arousing it with tingling pleasure. Where had this man come from, Hermione’s lust soaked brain asked, clearly tables brought out a very different side of Lucius Malfoy. Her thoughts on the subject were brought to an abrupt end as his strong fingers suddenly tightened about her hips and he pulled her forward on the unforgiving surface, to the very edge of the table. His hands shoving her legs apart, this almost unpredictable side of Lucius, a heady mix of the man of old and the man she knew him to be now, turned her on more than ever before. Hot aching heat pooled between her legs and against the fingers which now slid through her wet folds. She moaned at his touch, needing to feel him, her hands practically clawing at the wood beneath her in frustration, his fingers tormented her, slipping enticingly into her, brushing against the sensitive bundle of nerves but offering no sense of imminent release. Hermione arched against him groaning in need, his name falling from her lips in a low rasping breath, her legs tightening against his hand.

Lucius was enjoying the slow gentle _torture_ he was inflicting on her Hermione, her reactions to his mouth, to his hands, the sweet scent of her desire for him and the feel of her body against him, but the sound of his name on her lips reached and touched him in a way that even her hand curled intimately around him couldn’t. In a quick, lithe movement, Lucius positioned himself between her legs, his long fingers covered by her own juices, replaced by his throbbing arousal, gripping her hip, he thrust forcefully into her wet willing body, sensation and blatant need threatened to overwhelm him, but his disciplined body complied with his brain.

Hermione cried out at the blissful, forceful and unexpected intrusion into her body. So much power, so much pleasure, it was a potent combination and one Lucius Malfoy had down to a very fine art. He supported his weight over her body, his mouth touching hers, his tongue darting into her mouth, mirroring the actions of his lower body with skilful, erotic precision.  Her legs rose around his waist giving him deeper access, she met him thrust for glorious thrust, the angle they were at, only serving to heighten both of their pleasures. Hermione’s fingers tore into the flesh at his shoulders, Lucius didn’t push her over the edge, his powerful lunging body, shoving her off head first and hard. His name spilled from her lips all over, in that breathy rasping tone.

The sound filled his ears, caressing his cock as her inner muscles tightened around him, he called her name in response, unable to hold back any longer as his orgasm ripped through his tense jerking body, and spilled possessively into her.


	103. Parallel Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well as ever you are wonderful, with your kind comments and lovely kudos. I hope when this story ends you will have enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. The housekeeping remains as always, apologies for any mistakes etc. ...Time for lunch me thinks...

 

A plethora of thoughts raced around in Hermione Granger’s head as she removed four remarkably symmetrical, perfectly formed Yorkshire puddings from the oven. Only one of those thoughts was remotely connected to the round savoury accompaniment to her roast dinner, and that was, save herself, did anyone actually like them?

“Oh well you two can have some Sunday treats.”

She spoke to the two hounds who watched her intently, especially when the door was opened to check on the large piece of gently roasting meat.

All the others were connected in some way or another to the man who had just left the room.

She added the puddings to the table, she had placed a heat charm over it, keeping all the things ready for serving, hot.  She certainly hadn’t needed a heat charm when she’d been laid out across it. Her face and body warmed on cue at the recollection, her mouth curving into a naughty, satisfied smile.

“That all looks very tempting.”

She was vaguely aware of a voice, someone speaking to her. The words filtered through her thoughts and her face flushed even more.  She turned to looks at Lucius’ son.

“Draco, sorry I was miles away”.

She covered her fluster quickly, brushing her brow with the back of her hand, feigning sweat to disguise her glowing cheeks.

“I was just making sure I hadn’t forgotten anything.”

Draco cast his blue eyes over the well laden table and Hermione’s found her cheeks positively burning.

“Well.” He said thoughtfully as if he was suddenly an expert chef.

“As long as there is a nice medium rare piece of beef cooking in there.” He gestured towards the oven.

“I’d say we were all set. Did you do all of this yourself?” He asked curiously.

“I can’t see my father getting his hands dirty in the kitchen.”

Hermione noticed a small inflection in his tone, and a cheeky grin on his face, but put it down to the measure of sarcasm directed at his father. Lucius had got _very dirty_ in the kitchen and hands had certainly been involved, but not in the way Draco meant. Hermione tried to control the heat consuming her face and her body.

“I did, well mostly.” She said as truthfully as ever.

“The novelty and amusement of watching me peel vegetables the muggle way soon wore off, and your father resorted to magic.”

“Right.”

There was that odd little inflection in the younger Malfoy’s voice again with the accompanying grin. Maybe he too found peeling vegetables or preparing food in anyway an odd thing to want to do.

“What time will Astoria be here?” She asked, deflecting the conversation away from the kitchen and the goings on in here.

Draco glanced at the large clock on the wall, surprise flittering across his face.

“Any minute now, I better go and wait for her.”

Without another word he was gone, leaving Hermione smiling indulgently at his eagerness, and alone once more with the dogs, more attentive than ever as she removed the joint of beef from the oven. Needing a few minutes herself to get ready, she magically carved it, placing it too under the heating charm, and adding a protego spell, just to be safe. Four big brown eyes and two watering mouths, Hermione felt sure without it, she might come back to some empty plates.

“I’ll save you two something.” She promised Kauno and Isa as their eyes continued to look longingly at the table of food.

Patting them affectionately she headed back to her own room to change.

Tomorrow saw the start of her third week at Malfoy Manor, had she really only been here two weeks? It felt like forever, but in the same breath it felt like just only yesterday.  She remembered having a similar feeling the day she had arrived at those imposing front gates, as she had apparated to them with Lucius she couldn’t believe what had happened in the preceding eight short days.  The reflection which looked back at her from the long cheval mirror, found it even more incredible what had now happened in a month.

She didn’t want to dwell on the past, go over it all in her mind again, wonder how the hell she had got to here, to her that was irrelevant.

Anyone you met, became _involved_ with had a past, especially when they were Lucius Malfoy’s age, that was another thing she didn’t want to think about, again to her it was unimportant. But not everyone had the tarnished history he did. Many would still consider him the monster he had once been, a war criminal even, if you wanted to put it bluntly. She’d had all of these thoughts before going to the Weasley’s for lunch, knowing how her friends, and so many others would react, feel about her working with such a man. She was still working with the man, but now it really was so much more besides. She knew their reactions to that, would be even less favourable, thinking that her views and feelings were to say the least warped Whilst she did not want to hurt or upset her friends, her views and feelings were her own, it was her life, it was her choice.

 

There was a lot to be said for doing things the Muggle way, the hot shower had given her time to think and clear her head, a cleansing charm didn’t afford that luxury. Towel drying her hair before, applying a magical straightening spell, had relaxed her, and she was ready to face, what might in some circles be considered her first formal engagement in this house. The notion made her smile and she left the room, nervous excitement trickling through her veins. She would of course take her cue from Lucius, nothing had changed in that respect, professionally or otherwise, he was still Master of the House and his wishes and feelings were still paramount. There was after all his son to consider, whatever her friends might think about the situation, her involvement with such a man, would pale into comparison to how he would feel about her involvement with his father, would he be angry, would he feel cheated, deceived, maybe even disgusted? Or would he be happy, even just a little bit? That was quite possibly too much to hope for.

 

As she entered the drawing room, the younger Malfoy was about as far removed from any of those negative emotions as you could possibly be. He was most definitely happy, and more than just a little bit. His entire world wrapped up in the dark, stunningly beautiful young woman at his side. Hermione still couldn’t recall her from their school days, despite some serious brain wracking.

She found herself more than a little astounded, whilst his parents might not have approved of Astoria Greengrass because of her background, or her beliefs, they certainly could not have objected on any other grounds, she really was exotically beautiful, almost as tall as Draco, her long silky hair as dark as his was blonde. They made a very eye-catching and attractive couple.

“There you are Gr….Hermione.”

Surprisingly it was Draco who noticed her arrival in the room first and she returned his smile. Noticing how quickly he had corrected himself and had cast a wary, apologetic look in Lucius’ direction.

“Astoria, you remember Hermione don’t you.”

Hermione shot a look at Draco, he was obviously still convinced that the two women should know each other. Ironically it was Astoria who put an end to his conviction.

The striking brunette took a step out of the arm which was loosely caught about her waist. Clearly having admitted to his involvement with Astoria and having invited her alone to lunch, Draco was relaxed enough not to conceal his true feelings. She clasped a glass of wine in one slender, well-manicured hand, the other she extended elegantly to Hermione.

“Actually Draco, only by reputation. As I think I mentioned, Hermione and I never actually met as such while we were at school.”

She gave Hermione a warm almost knowing smile, Hermione got the distinct impression that Draco had also been assuring her that they’d met too. She took the proffered hand, shaking it warmly and of course, unable to resist a not so well disguised, I told you so look at the young wizard.

“It’s lovely to meet you Astoria, I did try and explain to Draco that I didn’t know everyone at school.”

Astoria laughed, a deep genuine sound, her brown, almond shaped eyes sparkling. Like Draco and Lucius her skin was very pale in colour, the long dark hair which framed her square face, made if look even paler. A spot of colour graced her high cheekbones at her laughter.

“And I am sure you too, got that disbelieving look.”

Hermione said nothing, the expression on her face affirmation enough. Both woman glanced at Draco, he smiled sheepishly, shrugging his shoulders. He glanced briefly at his father, as if looking for back up, none of course was forthcoming, Lucius appearing to find the entire scenario and his son’s intimidation by these two young women most amusing.

The older wizard raised his hand and a glass of wine drifted towards Hermione, she took it thankfully and gave him an affectionate smile.

“Lunch is ready whenever you are.” She offered.

“I left a Kauno and Isa guarding it.”

Draco’s blue eyes left Astoria, widening in horror, Lucius took a sip of his own wine, amusement once more dancing on that sensual mouth of his.

“Don’t worry Draco, the medium rare was also under the protection of a Protego, I might adore your father’s dogs and quite possibly trust my life with them, but as for a freshly cooked piece beef, no.”

The relief on Draco’s face was palpable, causing the three other occupants of the room to laugh at him. His pale, but happy face, flushed in embarrassment.

“Well I wouldn’t want all of G..Hermione’s efforts in the kitchen to go to waste.”

Lucius, devilish grey blue eyes, caught Hermione’s, her blushing, but happy face, blushed even deeper.

She had seen many moods and emotions on the face of the elder Malfoy over the last few weeks, but this was a very different set that twinkled in his eyes. This was a side of the dark wizard she hadn’t seen before, Hermione had a feeling this was going to be much more difficult to handle, dare she say control.

“Indeed, we wouldn’t Draco, Hermione is very adept in the kitchen and worked very hard to satisfy us.”

Hermione raised the chilled wine to her face, hoping that the cold contents would reach her burning cheeks, she took a large swig.

Depressed Lucius, tortured Lucius, haunted Lucius, she had been trained to deal with. His dark fearful emotions and supressed feelings, she could interpret.  This side of Lucius Malfoy really was something very different, subtle innuendos and humour, were a joy, heart-warming to see and to hear, after so much darkness and despair, but something she wasn’t used to. It was unpredictable and a little dangerous, in a nice way of course. She loved it, but would certainly have to keep her wits about her, Lucius Malfoy was an excellent and articulate wordsmith, usually she could hold her own. But sparing verbally with him in this fashion was like walking through quicksand, and this side of him definitely reeked of unpredictability and danger. But Hermione was always up for a challenge, and after this morning, she had a feeling it was the shape of things to come.

Her own twinkling brown eyes, met that devilish grey blue.

“I hope it all comes up to expectations.”

“I saw it all spread out on the table it looked delicious.”

Draco jumped headlong into the exchange between his father and Hermione, despite what he had witnessed, he was totally oblivious to the hidden connotations.

Hermione’s crimson hue deepened behind the rim of her wine glass, heat pooling just about everywhere in her body.

An indulgent smile curved Lucius lips, his grey blue eyes drifting from his son and his companion to Hermione. She noticed him lick his lips, he raised his own glass to them, that steely, penetrating gaze firmly fixed on her. His tone remained as clipped as ever, but to Hermione’s now rather practised ear, she noticed the warm sexy variation.

“So did I Draco, it looked _very tempting_ indeed.”

Drawing her eyes away from Lucius heated stare, she buried her nose further in the wine, not missing the little look which passed between Draco and Astoria, and the _secret_ smile.

 

 

A plethora of thoughts had raced around in Draco Malfoy’s head as he had quietly and carefully closed the door on his father and Hermione. Previously his thoughts had been pure supposition, maybe the result of an over active imagination, fuelled by his own rekindled romance. But he’d now seen with his own eyes, his father had kissed Hermione Granger, passionately kissed her, it was more than just supposition.

Then of course his thoughts went off on very different tangents. He still loved the idea that his father had “other interests” even if they were very much centred around “working” with Hermione. Draco still found it incredibly weird that he did love the idea, that he wasn’t angry in some way or maybe even a little revolted in another way. Hermione was after all the same age as him, and just a couple of years older than Astoria, but much as he thought about any of those emotions, they really didn’t apply. He couldn’t feel anger, maybe a little miffed that no one had said anything, but then why would they, he had hardly been forthcoming about his own relationship. Revulsion, what the hell did age matter?

The Draco Malfoy who was so hateful to the young Mudblood at school, he shuddered at just the thought of the word, would have been utterly reviled, probably would have thrown the biggest tantrum of his life. Maybe even the Draco Malfoy, who’d met Hermione Granger at a Ministry of Magic event a few short months ago, would have not been entirely happy about it. But the one who had made a friend of the young witch, whose advice he had willingly taken, and who had reconnected him with two of the people he cared most about in the world, felt no such revulsion, had no such qualms. He did however find himself having some concerns. The thoughts, despite their gravity, had brought an impromptu smile to his thin lips, Hermione’s words about being a very adult thing to do, resonating in his ears.

He worried that his father might have misconstrued Hermione’s desire to help and her caring nature for something more, that it might be a rebound reaction from his mother. Draco was no expert, not like Hermione, well in truth he didn’t have a clue, but he feared his father’s mental state could have clouded his judgement in some way. He’d chided himself, his thought wasn’t meant to be a slight against Hermione, he’d found himself almost arguing with himself, aloud. He had just hoped whatever was going on in Lucius Malfoy’s head it had not led him into something that when he felt better he would no longer want or need. That he would wittingly or unwittingly hurt Hermione, and Draco would hate that, feeling it would be his fault.

He worried that the intensity of the situation with his father, had perhaps overwhelmed Hermione and she too had just got carried away, or sucked in without thought. But this was Hermione Granger he was thinking about. He’d seen the look on her face as his father had lent in to kiss her, he’d heard her moan in pleasure at his father’s touch. His face had flushed at the recollection, feeling perhaps he should have closed the door sooner.

Draco Malfoy was no expert when it came to women either, or relationships come to that, but his feelings for Astoria, made him more attuned to other people’s emotions. His father and Hermione were both adults, two incredibly strong-willed adults, who would not take kindly to the interference of others, whomever they might be.

Draco Malfoy trusted Hermione Granger, just how bizarre did that sound? There was of course still a but, the one about when she would need to leave the manor and return to her own life. The young blonde’s head spun, he preferred it when he didn’t have to think like an adult, thinking for, or about others was hard incredibly work, but he’d found his thoughts coming around in a complete circle. A circle which revolved almost entirely around Hermione Granger. He recalled his father’s words this time, thanking whatever had brought her to their home. If Draco hadn’t asked her for help with his father, he certainly wouldn’t have been waiting excitedly for Astoria to join them for lunch, the second time in as many days, and he would definitely not be thinking the way that he was, and thus the circle continued. Whatever guise the relationship between Lucius Malfoy and Hermione Granger took, they both seemed very happy and relaxed about it, and were also very adept at concealing it.

His father had welcomed Astoria to their home once more, again he was the perfect host, more to the point he was simply his father, there was no side or hidden agenda. He was more genial and cheery than Draco could ever remember seeing his always very proper, taciturn parent.

Hermione……he remembered her anxiety, when he first asked her to come to the Manor. He’d watched her intently as she’d entered the drawing room a few moments ago, watching for any little furtive interactions with his father, just to amuse himself really.  He’d of course told Astoria, but was a little disappointed when her reaction had been almost Hermione like, telling him not to stick his nose in. Of course he abided by her words, well almost.

Hermione made easy conversation with his girlfriend, she poked fun at him, and as for furtive interactions, actually she spared almost playfully with his father, who responded accordingly. It was like she belonged here.

 


	104. Pressed Between The Pages of The Mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so firstly something I don't normally do, but as I am really busy and trying to keep the story up to date and updated regularly, I haven't had time to reply to all of your comments for the last chapter. So I wanted to say a big thank you for them all and I will try and respond personally after this one. You are all wonderful with your words and continued support. With each chapter I post now, I feel a little sad as the end is very much in sight. As usual I apologise for any errors etc and hope you enjoy these next few chapters...

Lunch was only two courses; between her heated encounter with Lucius and the return of his son, Hermione had somehow managed to quite literally whip up desert, recalling the recipe for a simple fruit Pavlova her mother used to make.  She’d noticed fresh raspberries and strawberries in the cooling cupboard earlier and used them to top the mini mountain of baked sugar and egg whites.

The young witch had adored her time at the renowned school for witchcraft and wizardry but her favourite _lessons_ , which surpassed everything else, were those spent baking and cooking with her mother during the holidays. From the compliments, she got from around the table it was time well spent.

Draco complaining bitterly that there wasn’t more of the chewy sweet pudding, whilst Astoria thanked Merlin that there wasn’t. Apparently, she had an incredibly sweet tooth and if given free rein, she assured the assembled guests, she could easily end up looking like Professor Sprout. At a good 5.11” Hermione assured her.

“That was never going to happen.”

Laughter and happy chatter continued and of course with the mention of one Hogwarts professor, it was inevitable, with Hermione, Draco and Astoria all seated around the highly polished, well laid dining table, that at some point their recollections would turn to their time at the school. Lucius sternly but good naturedly pointing out that things were very different in _his day,_ prompting Draco to cheekily and rather _bravely_ suggest that some of the Professors had been teaching since _his day._ It earned him another severe but good-humoured look from his father. Most of the memories were however of a more recent time, an era which the three younger people had shared, or at least been at school for the same time, if not directly shared.

They recalled the same teachers, the hilarity and in Draco’s case boredom, of Divination through the thick spectacles of Professor Trelawny and of course Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts with Severus Snape. They argued enjoyably, with verbal replays of well recounted losses and victories on the Quidditch pitch. They remembered the same beginning and end of term speeches given by the late Professor Dumbledore. The mention of his name causing a little awkwardness and discomfort for Draco, and a slight lull in conversation. Not wanting anything to mar their thus far happy recollections and enjoyable lunch, Hermione quickly moved the chatter back to happier times, remembering how in their second year the headmaster had cancelled exams as a treat.

“I was utterly mortified.” She explained pulling a childish face.

“I had swatted for ages, revised at every free period.” Her words were mainly directed at Astoria, the younger woman not having arrived until the following term.

“You did that anyway.” Draco chimed in helpfully.

“You always had your nose buried in a book of some sort, the bigger the better.”

As the lively sapping of stories continued, Hermione noticed a change in Lucius’ mood, it wasn’t bad, but he seemed distracted, becoming quieter, more reserved and reflective.

Draco and Astoria continued with their happy banter, Hermione chipping in from time to time, but her focus was never far from Lucius.

The animated conversation was brought to an abrupt halt by a loud clap of thunder, everyone’s eyes looking towards the French windows, including the two startled dogs, who had until this point been sound asleep by their Master’s feet. Amidst the food, the wine and the delightful if sometimes raucous chatter, no one had noticed the weather closing in, or the room becoming darker. If they had no one had mentioned it, quite probably assuming that afternoon had moved into evening. Lightening suddenly lit the now rather dim room. Astoria jumped at the violent flash, another loud crash of thunder coming immediately in its wake.

Hermione hadn’t seen a sky this black and foreboding since the Dark Mark had appeared in the sky. Not since the Quidditch World Cup or following Professor Dumbledore’s death had it looked quite so ominous or foreboding.

Thunder clattered once more, lightening striking like a flashbulb. Rain began to patter against the windows, and then lash against them much harder.

Despite the frightening connections to the past, since childhood, Hermione had loved a really good storm. A hot summer’s day followed by a refreshing stormy night to kill the humidity. Many a time she had lain awake, both at Hogwarts and at home, just listening to the glorious sights and sounds of the meteorological phenomenon. Crookshanks cowering under her bed, or a table somewhere in terror. Kauno and Isa, despite their initial shock to the sounds, seemed to have no such concerns, with no prospect of any further Sunday treats they had gone back to sleep at Lucius’ feet. Hermione supposed all of those years spent outside, they had grown used to the elements.

Astoria seemed to favour her elderly cat’s opinion, looking as if she too were about to dive under the table as another louder clap of thunder rattled the rain soaked windows. She smiled nervously at Hermione, grasping her wine glass, undoubtedly to disguise her fear of the waring electrical squall outside.

Draco seemed to also be enjoying the natural pyrotechnics, it was the longest his attention had been diverted from the young brunette. His father however was clearly more attuned to other people’s fears.

“Do you play chess my dear?”

He asked unexpectedly, his clipped tones drifting through the air once more as he drew his disinterested gaze away from the darkness outside. Refilling Astoria’s now empty glass and giving her a leisurely smile.

Hermione and Draco’s curious eyes also came back to the obviously rather surprised young woman. Her nerves momentarily soothed, by the wine, the question, and Lucius’ soft, calming and thoughtful voice.

“Yes, Sir I do.” Despite her anxiety, she addressed Lucius as respectfully as ever, her tenor visibly a little mystified.

The older blonde smiled indulgently, lifting his own goblet to his lips, appearing to savour the wine he had been drinking all afternoon, seeming to be just making polite chit chat. Hermione for one knew him far too well for that, even if his son was just as puzzled as his guest. Lucius turned his attention unhurriedly to his son.

“Draco whilst out attempts at further conversation are being drowned out by the weather, perhaps you could show Astoria the games room.”

Hermione bit back the smile on her own face as Draco’s look of puzzlement intensified, fully expecting him to say “What?” The question danced across his lips, but remained unsaid as he father spoke once more.

“I acquired a very old set, which has just been restored to its glory, Draco has been itching to play with it.”

Hermione noticed a small flush on the younger Malfoy’s cheeks, no doubt being made to sound like an excited five-year-old by his father. Lucius was clearly trying to get Draco to understand, without actually saying as much, that Astoria might be happier somewhere away from the raging storm, but his attempts to do so, were clearly going right over Draco’s blonde head.

“It’s a little quieter in there.” He ventured tactfully, and as if on cue, the room was once more engulfed in forked lightening, the remainder of his words drowned out by another deafening rumble of thunder.

Astoria shifted closer to Draco. Hermione could see Lucius grey eyes fixed on his son, imploring him, desperately trying to convey his message. Hermione went for the less than subtle approach, just as she had done only recently, her small foot once again connecting with his shin.

Until Astoria’s slim fingers had curled around his arm, tightening, almost painfully, with the last burst of thunder, Draco had put two and two together and come up with a resounding five. A little flush of anger seeping into his veins, that his father wanted to get rid of them. It had turned to an excited five when he thought perhaps his father wanted to be alone with Hermione. As the fingers on his sleeve bit through the cashmere of his jumper and into the flesh on his forearm, five became four. Realising from his bruised shin and subtle suggestions from his father, that he and Hermione could both see that Astoria was afraid of the storm.

The games room at Malfoy Manor was located in the basement, next to the well-stocked wine cellar and tucked away from noises of any kind, violent storms included.

“What a lovely idea” He said, rather obviously.

Hermione continued to bite back her laughter. Lucius covering a _finally,_ roll of his eyes with another bright and indulgent smile.

“Help yourself to more wine on the way……” He returned his attention to Draco’s edgy companion.

“My father placed the wine cellar very fortuitously next to the games room.” He explained, continuing to smile at the young woman.

Hermione saw her relax visibly, almost entranced by Lucius, slow, deliberate words, his tone slightly lower and softer than usual.

 “And Astoria, do not let my son cheat.”

He threw a warning look at Draco, a dark blonde brow rising, his eyes narrowing along with his mouth. Draco returned his father an _as if,_ look.

Hermione’s smiled broadened at the easy interaction between father and son, at Lucius’ acceptance and way with Astoria.

As the ferocious storm continued to resonate around the room and against the windows, Draco’s took the young brunette by the hand and lead her out of the room. As she left she offered both Hermione and Lucius grateful smiles, trying not to start as another roll of thunder sounded overhead.

Lucius drained his own glass once more, shaking his head.

“Sometimes it takes a while for my son to catch on.”

Hermione let out the laughter she had been withholding.

“It was a little bit like pulling teeth.”

This time it was the Dark Wizard who looked a little mystified at her Muggle expression.

“Hard work.” She offered quickly, amusement lighting her brown eyes.

“My parents were both dentists, it was a popular saying in my house.”

Lucius was still a tad confused by her words, but he said nothing, he liked it when she shared things with him so freely about her own life. The trickle of sadness he’d felt earlier ebbed back into his veins.  Hermione noticed it too, as he once again became reflective, she went with another Muggle expression.

“There was another popular saying in my home too…..a penny for your thoughts, I should offer you a sickle though.”

His woeful grey eyes met hers. As always, they were filled with warmth and compassion, encouraging him. She seemed to see right through him, deep into his soul.

“You were thinking about something else earlier.”

She saw things even he didn’t realise were there, until she mentioned it, and then it simply became clear. Thoughts manifesting themselves into words of brutal honesty.

“I loved how you, Draco and Astoria were sharing your tales of school, of teachers, of Quidditch.”

He paused, sadness once more clouding the pale blue grey depths of his eyes.

“But……” Hermione offered gently.

“Sometimes it just reminds me of how much I missed out on with my son.”

There was another pause, this one seemed even more melancholy.

“The other day when we talked, when he told me about you at school, I was so happy, but at the same time so very said. It had taken him so long to share such a simple thing.”

It had always been Hermione who took his hand, or touched him reassuringly in some way, today he sought it out, grasping her hand as it rested on the table.

“I feel cheated.”

Hermione looked at him questioningly, waiting for him to go on, her fingers furling softly around his.

“A memory I was deprived of for so long, because of my own arrogance, my own stupidity.”

Hermione chewed her long-suffering bottom lip, wishing there was a way she could give Lucius at least some of the memories he had missed out on, back.  His words about the restored chest set, strangely whirred around in her head.  The Malfoy’s were a very old wizarding family, the Manor housed many artefacts, books, works of art, antiques……

“Do you have a pensieve Lucius?”

The Muggle world boasted a vast array of ways and means of capturing memories, news, events and the like. Film, video and now even discs for digital recordings, all of which could be looked back on in years to come.  She might not be able to give him a day to day account of his son’s and her own years at Hogwarts, but she could certainly give him some of the edited highlights, if of course he did own one of the ancient memory dishes.

“Yes.” He said slowly and carefully.

“But it hasn’t been used since Draco was baby, most of my memories are not ones I want to see again.”

Hermione saw Lucius point, understanding how he must feel about a good many things in his life, but the little devil also saw the upside. She had only intended on giving Lucius a few good memories to press between the pages of his mind, but it would work both ways. Draco Malfoy as a stroppy toddler, Lucius as a young man, those would be fun and nice for her to see too, and should he choose to share any of the darker memories, she would be there for him. Hermione rose from the chair, still tightly clasping his hand.

“Show me.” She said firmly.

Lucius also rose from his seat at the head of the table, his eyes firmly fixed on her. He had no intention of denying Hermione, or arguing with her.  Apprehension and some of Astoria’s fear coursed through his blood, knowing he would want to share more than just the happy memories with her.

Just like his son had done moments before with Astoria, Lucius lead Hermione from the room, towards his study, towards the pensieve.

 

 


	105. Well Did You Evah?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well once again my faithful readers I must apologise for not having had a chance to respond personally to you all for your lovely comments. But trust me they are all read and much appreciated, I just want to keep on top of the story without getting too far behind. With that in mind I apologise for the delay in getting this chapter up and hope you will like where I went with it, I am sure it isn't going to be what many of you were expecting, but then I do tend to not go down those tried and tested routes.
> 
> The usual apologies for any faux pas etc.

 

Lucius Malfoy’s study was a cross between Professor Dubmledore’s office and the sitting room his former wife had once occupied. It was room on two levels with striking contrasts of many things, light and dark, hard and soft, old and new. But despite all of those contrasting things, there was something _very_ Lucius, very masculine about this room. In a way Hermione saw him as all of those things too.

The floor was wooden, its surface almost as highly polished as the table in the dining room, it was covered in part by a huge luxurious and extremely soft looking rug, it was surprisingly light in colour but was edged with a deep rich red. Hermione noticed, it’s edging matched the plush heavy drapes which hung at the vast expanse of windows, which all seemed to open and all out onto a very secluded terrace. Had it have been a lovely sunny day, the room would have been bathed in glorious natural light, giving it the feeling you were actually outside. That feeling now sending a slight shiver through Hermione, as rain lashed against these windows too, and that black ominous sky, darkened the room.

As well as the windows, the young witch’s eye was drawn to the other feature which dominated the lower level of the room, the enormous stone fireplace, every room in the manor boasted a grate or hearth of some sort but this one was particularly impressive. It was big enough to stand in and like the rug on the floor was very pale in colour, almost ivory, it was a stark contrast against the dark flooring and wooden panelling of the walls. As she contemplated actually trying it for size, a small fire began to burn at its heart, as it began to crackle it gave the room a welcoming feel. 

Hermione’s eyes continued to flutter around the room, trying to take in every detail. She wasn’t sure if she was surprised or not. In one respect, she was but in another, maybe not so much, again she felt it’s layers were like those of Lucius.

The furniture in here, by comparison to others in the Manor was very low and squat, save of course the writing desk and chair, which had to accommodate Lucius’ long legs. She had somehow expected leather Chesterfield sofa’s or something similar, but there were in fact two, what you might call love seats, large armchairs big enough for two people to sit in comfortably if snuggly, or for one person to stretch out in. Although they were leather, it was a very soft looking and the colour was almost as pale as the fireplace and the rug.

Hermione got the impression that Lucius came in here when he wanted to be alone, a suspicion confirmed by his own words.

“No one comes in here but me.” He said quietly, glancing around the room and then back at Hermione.

“I would come in here to escape from everybody and everything. Ironically, even amidst the stupor of alcohol, I could not escape my memories.”

She looked sadly back at him and then around the room. It really wasn’t hard to imagine him sitting here totally alone, looking as he had done at the Battle of Hogwarts or as he had during that first nightmare she had witnessed. Reeking of alcohol, unshaven and unkempt, his beautiful blue grey eyes, dark rimmed and reddened, hollowed from haunted dreams and lack of sleep.  Desperately trying to drown out everyone and everything in the numbing effects of drink.  It was a beautiful, elegant space, but even with its light splashes, soft surfaces and vast expanse of glass it was an incredibly masculine room. But with those heavy velvet drapes drawn, dimly lit by perhaps only the burning fire or a candle, the stench of alcohol and unwashed human, just as his bedroom had been on that first night, she also imagined it could also be a very lonely and very depressing room.

Hermione realised Lucius must have been in here at some point earlier in the day. His ebony cane resting against one of the pale seats, he was never too far from it, not even in the Manor. He withdrew his wand and nudged on of the many books adorning the shelves, the panel raised and a pedestal glided into the room, it was the same colour stone as the fireplace, on its top was seated a pensieve.

Despite the darkness in Lucius’ words, Hermione’s intention was to show him some happy memories. The entrance of the pensieve itself however stirred a memory of its own in the young witch, and she couldn’t repress the smile which accompanied it. Something of course the eagle eyed dark wizard did not miss.

 “You are in a completely strange room, and yet you have the look of a fond memory of your own upon your face.” He observed in a quiet, indulgent tone.

Lucius’ perception and his keen eye never ceased to amaze Hermione, her bright smile seemed to banish the doubts that lurked in the depths of his eyes.

“I do.” It was both a question and a statement.

That intention to show Lucius happy memories had really been of her time at Hogwarts, of his son, the two not exactly going hand in hand, but she would find something. It had not been to show him her own childhood memories, at home with her parents, but then perhaps it was a good place to start after all.

Lucius Malfoy was no fool, but a little bit like Arthur Weasley, some things Muggle took more explaining than others. A scene from a Muggle musical would certainly fall into that category, even the concept of a Muggle musical itself, was likely to make little or no sense, not that it did even to some Muggles. Every day folk in relatively normal situations, bursting into song and dance for no apparent reason, and no one taking any notice or thinking that it was remotely odd. Wondering how she was going to even begin explaining this to Lucius Malfoy, reminded her of a lyric from another of her and her mother’s favourite musical films.

“Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start, when you read you begin with a,b,c.”

She fortunately resisted the urge to sing, the words flying around in her brain remaining unsaid at all, feeling they could to the uninitiated sound, patronising. She glanced at Lucius’ curious and expectant face.

“As well as baking with my mother, we shared a love of musicals.”

And there is was, that look she had been expecting, his curiosity deepening.

“During the school holidays, we’d bake and whilst we were waiting for whatever we had made to cook, we would start to watch an old musical.”

She couldn’t contain her enthusiasm as she spoke.

“Then we’d watch the rest of it with what we’d baked and of course a cup of tea.”

Hermione wasn’t sure, despite all of their conversations, she’d ever seen quite such a lost or vacant expression on the dark wizard’s face. She had never imagined explaining such a simple scene in such frothy film would be quite so difficult.

“A musical?” Lucius queried, the vacant look of loss deepening with his question.

Merlin’s teeth, thought Hermione, it suddenly became very obvious, many things Muggle had not found their way into Lucius Malfoy’s pureblood existence in any way at all. She really was going to have to start at the very beginning.

“Hmm yes, some Muggles, my mother and I included used to love films where people would sing and often dance.”

“Why?” Came the immediate and exceedingly curious response.

A lot of Muggles asked themselves the very same question, but Hermione wasn’t going to get into that, the water was deep enough already. She tried to keep it as simple as she could, ensuring that she really didn’t sound patronising in any way.

“Well imagine a favourite moving picture you have, and simply add a piece of music you like to it.”

Lucius nodded his blonde head very slowly. If nothing else Hermione had succeeded in banishing any of those bad memories he might have initially recalled.

“It makes it doubly enjoyable, right?” She suggested tentatively hoping Lucius’s imagination was up to stretching that far.

Again, he nodded slowly, perhaps it would be easily if she just showed him, although there really were no guarantees.

Lucius noticed the enthusiasm and love which filled her voice, it was infectious and he listened absorbedly.

“My Mum and I, we had two absolute favourite musical films that we loved to watch over and over, and one play that we had seen several times.”

Lucius grey eyes were fixed intently on her, clearly, he was utterly intrigued, if not entirely comprehending what she was telling him. Gamely she persevered.

“What you just did, the pensieve concealed behind the panel of books, it reminded me of this.”

Hermione raised her wand, drawing the memory from her mind and placing it in the shallow basin, watching as it swirled around amongst the mystic runes carved around the edge.

 

Hermione was sitting on a sofa with another older woman, they were both clutching a china plate with a large slice of presumably freshly, home baked cake upon it. Even as a memory it looked particularly light and fluffy and was filled with cream and jam, it looked delicious. Lucius could almost taste it.

Hermione looked as she had done the first time he had seen her, she was no more than twelve years old. She wasn’t in her Gryffindor robes, she was dressed in jeans, her legs tucked underneath her, and a dark jumper, it bore faint traces of a white powdery substance, which also sat on the tip of her nose. Her face was rosy and she looked incredibly happy. Her mass of unruly, wavy hair was not loose, but caught up in a high pony tail. Munching on the cake, she and her mother were looking at a large box in the corner of the room. The memory homed in on the moving images on the oblong box.

Two men in the Muggle equivalent of dress robes were in a large, high ceilinged, very elegant drawing room. One was seated, thumbing through a magazine in a wing backed chair, the other appeared to be searching for a book amongst the many. The seated man spoke, through the cigarette between his lips.

“You’ll find it under Harvard classics, give Darwin a little nudge there.” He said in an American accented tone.

The other man was holding a glass, but with his free hand he did as the other instructed, and just as Hermione had said, the panelled wall of books rose, just as the one at the Manor had done, only instead of a pensieve gliding into the room, what appeared to be a bar, complete with counter and stools moved into the room.  Lucius was more than intrigued at the Muggle magic, watching intently as the two men exchanged conversation.

The man at the bar was a little inebriated, it didn’t stop him pouring himself another drink, Lucius identified with that only too well, but unlike Lucius he was a happy drunk.  From what the dark wizard could gather, they seemed to be talking about a woman that one was in love with, then without any warning the man with the drink began to sing to the other one. Lucius took a surprised step backwards, casting a quick glance at Hermione. She was watching him just as intently as he was following the, what was it she called it, the musical. He could also see she was trying desperately not to laugh, not exactly at him, but certainly at his reaction. Strange as the entire scenario might be, Lucius found himself riveted, he could see the similarities Hermione had alluded to, but was now wrapped up in the pleasing refrain, and the entertaining scene that unfolded before his eyes.

Again, just as Hermione had said, the two men continued to sing and dance, lyrically complimenting the party they were obviously at with some interesting phraseology, at one point seeming to be singing joyously about the world ending and planets colliding. They exited the sumptuous room still in full voice, tapping and kicking their feet, and not one of the assembled guests paid them the slightest bit of attention.

He brought his gaze back to Hermione, she was smiling broadly, her eyes twinkling with delight. Her eyes were not however looking at his face but at his feet.

“A musical you say?”  His clipped tone was still inquisitive and a little bemused.

Hermione nodded, bringing her sparkling brown eyes up to meet his, fascinated grey. The concept of a musical might still be a bit strange to his brain, but it had certainly connected with his feet, as they tapped along to the tune.  She wasn’t sure if it was his unexpected reaction to the song or the memory itself which caused happy tears to prick at her eyes, something which again did not go unnoticed by Lucius.

“I am sorry.” He said suddenly.

“For what?” She asked, now the one on the end of the confusion.

“I have upset you.”

She moved towards him, her fingers brushing his arm, realising he had taken the brightness in her eyes for that of anguish.

“Of course you haven’t Lucius, the memory was a happy one honestly, and it was lovely to share it with you.”

She paused briefly, her eyes still shining brightly. 

“It was nice that you enjoyed it so much.”

Her line of sight once again moved to Lucius’ feet, the confusion jumping back onto his face. Clearly, he had been so wrapped up in her memory he had been unaware of his happy foot tapping.

“You were tapping your feet to the song.” She enlightened him with an even bigger smile.

Lucius gave her a rather sceptical look, enjoying a Muggle tune was one thing foot tapping was something else entirely. But he had to confess he had enjoyed it, perhaps she would share the rest of it with him some time. 

She was also something of a past master when it came to picking up on things left unsaid, but was keen for this one not to remain so.

“What?” She asked him.

Knowing there was little he could hide from Hermione, Lucius confessed.

“I was wondering if you might share the rest of it with me sometime?”

Hermione thought he was talking about the memory, there really wasn’t that much more to share, but then suddenly realised he was actually talking about the musical itself.  The scenario broadened her smile yet further, prompting him to ask the same question.

“What?”

Honesty of course consumed her in the most forthright fashion, she spoke without a thought.

“You and I have shared many things over the last few weeks Lucius, between us and even together we have some very chequered history. The thought of curling up with a slice of Victoria sponge and watching a classic movie musical with a former Death Eater, well it stretches even my imagination to the very limits.”

She saw that familiar flicker of trepidation in the depths of his beautiful grey eyes, she did not regret her choice of words, but was quick to reassure him.

“But I would love too.”

It stretched Lucius’ powers of imagination and belief too, that she could refer to him so blithely as a Death Eater, using the term as easily as if she had just called him by his name, was beyond anything he could have imagined. That she could even consider sharing the things with him she had once enjoyed with her parents, parents whom no longer knew she existed, because of him, was way beyond simple forgiveness.

Here at Malfoy Manor, with Hermione, with his son and girlfriend in another room, it was easy to forget everything, be cocooned in a world where everyone and everything outside were irrelevant and didn’t matter, a place where the heinous things he had done, were forgiven if not forgotten.  But Lucius knew that at some point they would have to be faced, the article in the Prophet, Hermione’s support and of course the backing of Kingsley Shacklebolt would go a long way to changing some people’s views and beliefs, but there were those who would never forgive or forget, those to whom he would always be despised, would always be Lucius Malfoy the vile pureblood Death Eater. His time in Azkaban, if nothing else had given him time to reflect, he understood how impossible it was for some not to be able to see him as anything but that.

But for now, Hermione seemed to be more concerned with a very different past, one he wanted to see and enjoy for the first time, not rake over with bitter regret. Her wand placing yet another memory in the pensieve.

Their eyes met over the shallow stone basin, he was well aware that she knew where his thoughts were taking him. She gave him a warm disapproving look, gesturing for him to cast his gaze into the silvery white liquid.

Hermione really wanted to give Lucius some fond memories or his son at school, unfortunately most of those which involved her were not particularly pleasant. The memories in Hermione’s head were all very clear, and whilst they could not be altered entirely, they could be modified very slightly and of course stopped and started where so desired.

Lucius once again peered into the bowl as the glistening contents swirled around.

_Severus Snape, was telling Gilderoy Lockhart that it might be more prudent for him to teach the students how to block unfriendly spells, the blonde man concurring, he looked around for a volunteer pair. Suggesting Potter and Weasley, the dark man wasn’t happy with this._

_“Weasley’s wand causes devastation with the simplest of spells, we’ll be sending Potter to the hospital wing in a matchbox. Might I suggest someone from my own house?”_

_Gilderoy Lockhart didn’t look exactly pleased, but Snape wasn’t deterred, volunteering Draco for the exchange._

Lucius watched as his son rose at his Head of House’s command; smirking he strutted purposefully along the stage towards Potter. The blonde Professor instructed them “wands at the ready”

A still sneering Draco asked Harry Potter if he was scared, his response was defiant and they turned away from each other, Gilderoy Lockhart instructing them once more, on the count of three to cast charms to disarm your opponent, reiterating the disarm part, before starting his count. As he got to two, Draco cast a everte statum sending his opponent up into the air and reeling backwards, as Harry struggled to his feet Draco stood smiling before Professor Snape.  The memory seemed to fade, another quickly taking over. This time the Hogwarts pupils were in the greenhouses, Draco along with all of the other students was wearing earmuffs and grasping a mandrake, he glanced around, tickling the screaming plant under what passed for its chin, before rather stupidly sticking a finger in its mouth. Hermione saw Lucius wince, before a small smile lifted his lips. She remembered all too well the angry plant biting Draco, the angry young wizard then threatening to punch it. Once again, the memory faded.

Hermione found herself under the penetrating scrutiny of Lucius’ steely grey eyes.

“You are being very diplomatic Hermione.” He said, those eyes now twinkling.

She couldn’t help but smile, her good intentions of showing him some happy memories of school and Draco, was a little more difficult than she had anticipated, most of her encounters with the young pureblood had been far from friendly or even nice most of the time. She kept up with the tact although she knew his father saw right through her.

“Draco and I didn’t share too many classes.”

There was that knowing twinkle, it met an amused gleam in her own chocolate brown depths.

“And you know what I got up to at school.”

A further look of bewilderment flickered across Lucius’ face.

“Well there was Draco’s recent revelations and as I recall after our first year, _Draco’s told me all about you.”_

Hermione watched Lucius brow rise and a smile twitch his lips, her condescending look and imitation of his superior clipped tones a little too close for comfort. She noticed him schooling his features, the smile vanishing, in its place that same look of condescension and disdainful sneer, she had seen in Flourish and Blotts. Coupled with the tenor of his voice and his words, it sent a very different sensation dancing up her spine now.

“Clearly Miss Granger I was misinformed.” Those grey eyes of his continued to twinkle with knowing intensity.

She might not be able to find a good memory of herself and Draco, but she certainly knew one memory which would make Lucius smile. Her mischievous brown eyes sparkled back at him, she didn’t break eye contact as another memory drifted into the bowl.

This time Hermione was on the Hogwarts Express, she was in a carriage with Harry and Ronald Weasley and the three were deep in conversation. The conversation very similar to the one, he and Hermione had exchanged the morning the article in the Daily Prophet had been published. The young witch was explaining to her two friends, just as she had done to Lucius, how the vile reporter had been listening in on their private conversations. Telling them the Rita Skeeter was an unregistered Animagus and that she could turn into a beetle, but unlike in her conversation with him, Hermione was removing a small glass jar from her school bag. The youngest Weasley son was clearly astounded by her revelation and a decidedly gleeful Hermione was only too pleased to dispel his incredulity with proof of what she had done, brandishing the jar in front of her two friends. Inside were a few leaves and twigs and one large fat beetle. The two boys still couldn’t believe that this was the poison penned reporter, the Weasley boy holding the jar nearer to his face and peering closer inside. Hermione’s beaming delight was priceless, as she explained to them how she had caught the petite blonde and how if they looked even more closely they could see how similar the markings on the insect were to Rita Skeeter’s foul glasses.

Hearing Hermione tell him this story had been fun, but watching it unfold before his eyes was positively joyous, even the reaction of her friends, the Weasley boy included just added to Lucius’ pleasure. Not to mention the somewhat evil glee etched on Hermione’s face and bubbling in her tones.

“That…….. my dear Hermione is a decidedly Slytherin like look and tone.”

Lucius’ words to Hermione were nicely timed, talking over the bit where she explained to Harry that Draco had in fact been talking to the nasty reporter himself. She gave him a shocked looked, but knew he was quite right, and that she’d had that thought herself more than once over the last few weeks.

“As if Lucius, I was simply protecting my friends.”

The dark wizard returned to the memory just as Hermione was shaking the jar and the angry beetle was buzzing against the unbreakable glass, preventing her from transforming back to her loathsome self. Explaining to Harry and Weasley that she would let her out when they got back to London but that she had to keep her quill to herself for a year. The smile on the young Hermione’s face was serene but feline as she had slid the jar back into her school bag.

Lucius returned his attention to the older Hermione in the room with him.

“I maintain my statement that you my dear Miss Granger are a very formidable adversary, a very formidable young woman. I also like and commend your style.”

Hermione laughed outright.

“I am not sure I should be quite so flattered by that remark, coming from such a dark wizard, but as we are talking about Rita Skeeter.”

“Hmm I don’t think even now, despite everything, if that hateful woman printed anything else about me, my family or my friends I would be so _lenient.”_

Hermione watched Lucius, she realised that only too well, she had seen it in his eyes that morning in the hotel, there would always be a certain amount of darkness in this man, she would always fear him just the tiniest bit, that fear crept up her spine, sending a chill through her.  She refused to let the darkness in him or the darkness outside spill out now.

“Well you would have two options now Lucius.”

A familiar brow rose at her words, the dark wizard however remained silent.

“You could report her to an official of the Ministry of Magic for being and unregistered Animagus…...” She paused, that Slytherin like tone returning to her voice and that sly smile curving her mouth.

“Or….?” Lucius ventured.

“This time we could leave the lid on the jar.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as I said I am sure it wasn't what many of you were expecting, but at this time I didn't want to take Lucius back down that dark road......


	106. The Smell of Freshly Mown Grass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my faithful readers, the story races headlong into the home straight evermore. I have two, maybe three chapters left to write, you have a few more. I hope you will enjoy the ones which are left, as ever I apologise for any errors whatever they maybe and of course hope that you will forgive me.

 

Lucius’ study was still only bathed in the dim light from the gentle blazing fire and the occasional glow from the pensieve. It was as if those heavy red curtains were drawn, the sky outside remined very dark and ominous, although the storm itself had abated somewhat, the thunder and lightning now rumbling and flashing away somewhere in the distance. The rain continued to lash at the windows, a sudden burst of hail tapping rapidly against the glass, amongst it Hermione heard a different kind of tapping, a bedraggled, exhausted looking owl loitered outside.  She exchanged anxious glances with Lucius, whilst owls were not like regular post, they could come anytime, it wasn’t often people sent them at the weekend, today was clearly proving the exception to the rule, this being the third one to arrive at Malfoy Manor this particular weekend.

With a flick of his hand Lucius opened one of the windows, the owl came in amidst a rush of icy white pebbles. He relieved it of its missive and the soaked, tired creature, sought the warmth of the fire.

“It’s from the Ministry of Magic.” He stated in a surprised tone.

Hermione glanced at the bird, she thought it looked familiar.

“That owl must be well cheesed off.” She said making light of the concern she could see reflected in Lucius’ eyes.

 “It’s the second time it’s been sent here in torrential rain.”

The owl regarded Hermione almost as if it knew what she was saying, it ruffled its soggy plumage indignantly, moving closer to the heat of the fire.

Lucius turned the envelope over to see the familiar seal of the Minister on the back, apprehension, fear even, clearly etched on his face.

“It’s addressed to both of us.”

Hermione felt a little unease herself, but didn’t let it show., hiding the frisson of worry that drifted through her veins with another light remark.

“Well in that case one of us had better open it.”

Lucius fixed his eyes on the pale cream parchment in his hand, it was the second owl he had received today. The first one had ended his long marriage to Narcissa, that was obviously important. But, an owl from Kingsley Shacklebolt on a Sunday, addressed to both himself and Hermione, that couldn’t be good, could it? He fingered the seal, trepidation drying his mouth and causing his hand to shake ever so slightly. What if had gotten Hermione into some sort of trouble with the Ministry, what if….

“It’s no good presuming what it says Lucius, you will just have to open it.”

She remembered Draco’s similar and somewhat sarcastic comment to her earlier in the day. Hermione’s own words and her tone, once more belied the rush of anxiety she too felt, common sense told her it was nothing to worry about, human nature told her it wasn’t good.

Lucius tore through the seal and began to read aloud.

_“My Dear Hermione, Lucius_

_Please forgive my quite possibly unnerving owl on a Sunday, and also audaciously addressing it to both of you.”_

She and Lucius exchanged a knowing look over the top of the paper.

_“I fear however, the owl is already more than unhappy with me at sending her out on this dreadful afternoon, without giving her two envelopes to deliver._

Lucius again glanced in Hermione’s direction, she was clearly unfazed by the Minister’s letter, or at least she wasn’t showing it, an easy smile sitting on her lips, and obviously she was very used to his style of writing.

Hermione had relaxed too, Kingsley’s friendly, amusing and not to mention, knowing address putting her immediately at ease, deep down she knew there was nothing to worry about, that human nature had however sowed a small seed of doubt.  She shot a look at the drying owl, the look in it’s dark eyes making it quite easy to imagine, it not being at all happy with its master.

Lucius continued to read, Hermione trying to concentrate on the content, finding his voice having that hypnotic effect on her.

_“There are a couple of things I need to discuss with the two of you, all good, I hasten to add, well I like to think so, so please do not stress yourselves unduly._

It was a tad late for that thought Lucius, but he continued to read, his thoughts remaining just that.

Hermione noticed Lucius’ features finally relax, the relief also evident in his tone.

_“As well as sending my owl out in the most atrocious of whether, I also seem to make a habit of springing things upon you both. I know this is very short notice and quite possibly most inconvenient, but for my part I find my day delightfully clear tomorrow and wondered if you would like to join me for lunch at the Ministry._

Muggles had an expression, it was one her mother was very fond of using, about things coming in threes. Lunches it would appear were no exception to that old adage, first Harry, then Draco and now the Minister of Magic, if she wasn’t careful she was going to turn into a lady that lunched.  She quickly pulled her thoughts away from the inference.

_“We could discuss those couple of things I mentioned, and of course I am still eager to hear of your meeting with Ms Skeeter. Talking of which, save that typically scandalous headline and cleverly chosen photograph of the two of you at that Ministry Event back in February, I thought the article came over very well. I hope that you were both pleased with it? But we can hopefully talk about that tomorrow. I shall await your reply and the return of my no doubt very grumpy and wet owl.”_

_Yours as always KS_

Lucius looked at Hermione, his expression more than a little astounded.

Once upon a time, and for many years at that, he had enjoyed a very good relationship with the Ministry of Magic, even if the reasons behind it had been somewhat dubious, fearsome, some might say. The then Minister himself, Cornelius Fudge had bent over backwards and then some to pander to him, keep in the good graces of the Malfoy’s. But even in Fudge’s day, Lucius had never found himself on quite such friendly terms with the Minister, a seat in the Minister’s box at the Quidditch World Cup, was more for appearances sake than friendship.

Kinsley Shacklebolt was a member of the Order, he had many well-connected friends and he’d lost a good many more in the second Wizarding War.  How he found himself on those terms really was beyond any expectations he’d had of getting back into favour with the Ministry or the Minister come to that. He was under no illusions, Lucius Malfoy was well aware that every bit of it was down to Hermione, and not for the first time, he felt more than a little guilty.

She’d seen right through his intentions when he’d agreed to help her, she might have had an agenda of her own, but it was nothing compared to his. She’d done so much for him in so many other ways. This letter, this invitation, it now all felt like too much, as if in some way her was taking advantage of her.

“Stop it Lucius.”

He looked up from the letter, his brows raised in surprise, Hermione’s meeting in a deep almost threatening frown. Was he really that transparent?

“This is not only my doing, in helping me, it stands to reason you have helped yourself, put yourself in a favourable light with him. We agreed remember we both had _ulterior_ motives.”

Her deep frown morphed into a sly smile.

Obviously to Hermione the answer to his level of transparency was yes, he was indeed really that transparent. The mind she tended as well as his body, were an open book to her. It was an incredibly reassuring feeling, but it also rekindled another thought in the Dark Wizard’s mind.

“I really do think Hermione, if the sorting hat were put on that smart, pretty and devious head of yours today, it would struggle whether to put you in Slytherin or Gryffindor.”

“Hmm I think, perhaps you and Draco are rubbing off on me.”

She frowned once again, this time in good humour.

“Talking of Draco, I wonder if Astoria is alright now the storm has passed, maybe I should go and check? You can reply to Kingsley and take your chances with the grumpy owl.”

As if on cue the miserable and angry looking bird ruffled its now dry feathers, casting a beady, daring eye at Lucius.

An equally sly grin tugged at Lucius’ lips.

“That seems like a better than option than possibly catching my son and his girlfriend playing with more than antique ivory chess pieces.”

Hermione baulked at the image Lucius had conjured, her face flushing heatedly with the notion.

“Well we would.” Lucius added in a hushed rather naughty tone.

He certainly had a point on both counts, her eyes sparkling at his words, not so much perhaps at the content, but for the fact that he had spoken them at all, something she was only too pleased to point out to him. As forthrightly and honestly as always, and in her own inimitable way.

“The Slytherin in me is willing to bet that a few weeks ago, that thought would never have entered your head, and those pureblood values of yours, would never have permitted you to say such a thing out loud.”

That sly grin that had tugged Lucius lips, turned into what she could only describe as a wicked smirk, his nostrils flaring and his grey eyes flashing with intent.

“The Slytherin in you.” His voice was a wicked as the smirk, his eyes darkening sexily in colour.

“That would be me.” His tone even more wicked and decidedly sexier.

Hermione gasped at his words, enjoying them nonetheless. A tremor of heat coursing through her body at their lascivious connotations.

“Do I really have to waste good table space writing to the Minister of Magic?”

His silvery gaze drifted from Hermione to the desk, her body now flushing from tip to toe. Those previously supressed male instincts in Lucius, were now fusing with those rampant Malfoy ones, it was an intoxicating and deliciously dangerous combination, they had now gained a confidence which knew no bounds. She saw a lot of the arrogance and self-assurance she had seen in this man many years ago, but in a very different way.

Hermione had created a very different _monster_ to the one Lucius Malfoy had once been. But both the professional and the woman in her felt exceedingly pleased with themselves, loving both sides. Heat suffused her body once more, surging into her face. The innocuous, but naughty thought, causing another realisation in Hermione.

Hermione Granger loved chocolate, she loved books and the smell of parchment both old and new, she loved her job and she loved her friends. She loved the cold winter snow and the long summer evenings, the scent of freshly mown grass filling the warm dusky air. She was once again reminded of another song from her other favourite musical, having started at the very beginning with Lucius, she was now onto her _favourite things._

Lucius Malfoy had certainly become one of her _favourite things._ She looked at the tall handsome man who regarded her devilishly from across the room. Did she really think of him like her favourite bar of Dairy Milk, or like a much-read or brand-new book, that glorious scent of worn or pristine parchment invading her nostrils? Well there was a certain similarity there of course. Could she really compare the way she felt about Lucius Malfoy to how she felt about Harry, Ginny or even Ronald. Did he make her feel the same way as freshly fallen snow or a long walk on a warm summer evening? The answer to all of those questions was of course, no.

Lucius Malfoy made her feel the way no one or nothing else did, or had ever done. She had confessed to him earlier that she didn’t want to wake up in his bed wondering if it might be the last time, but even in her admission at the time, she hadn’t realised just how powerful that feeling and that emotion was.

Suddenly realising that she did not love both sides of Lucius Malfoy as she did a bar of chocolate or a beautiful book, caught her totally unawares. But, it made just about everything else fall neatly if somewhat shockingly into place. Why she was so protective of this man against everyone, the Weasleys, even Harry and his former wife. Why she desperately wanted to help him so much, and on more than just a professional level. Why she did all of the things she did with him so easily, so willingly, and without a second thought, and of course why she wanted to wake up in his bed.

The even more shocking realisation was that she was neither surprised or horrified by her feelings for him. Her mind as always divided neatly into two, the woman in her enjoying the happy warmth which spread through her body, and that scent of freshly mown grass which drifted to her nostrils. The Ministry of Magic employee and professional admonishing herself that she had in some way abused the position of trust she held, and that she had also betrayed Draco.

But then you really couldn’t pick and choose who you fell in love with, that was never more evident than at this moment. Hermione Granger had fallen in love with Lucius Malfoy.

 


	107. Check Mate.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well as always I continue to thank you all for lovely comments even so far into this story. A slightly different chapter, but only in as much as fills in some blanks from another perspective. As ever I really hope you enjoy it and where my story has taken me. Without any spoilers either for my chapter or giving away any secrets...my take on the relationship between these two characters is based on having seen The Cursed Child.
> 
> Of course as always apologies for any faux pas...enjoy
> 
> (PS Chess, wizarding or otherwise isn't game so I hope I got this right ;-) )

 

“Queen to K4”

The elegant white, ivory queen rose from her position and glided across the board, lifting the bejewelled staff she was carrying, she smashed it into the black knight shattering it into pieces.

Draco studied the board carefully, his blues eyes searching the pieces and regarding his options, finally they came to meet Astoria’s sparkling brown, shaking his head, the younger Malfoy toppled his King in defeat.

“I guess the storm didn’t put you off your game then?” He said in a _mock sulk._

The brunette shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

“Just as your father said, it’s quiet down here, nothing to upset me or disturb my concentration.”

Her beautiful face finally breaking into a knowing, victorious smile.

“Nothing to disturb us at all.” Draco offered.

A smile of a very different nature curved his lips, as he reached across the small space between them and toyed with a button on her shirt.

“Draco behave, your father and Hermione……” Astoria reproved, smacking his hand playfully away.

Draco raised a blonde eyebrow, knowing her coyness at least, was feigned.

“Once upon a time I would have agreed with you, but after what I saw in the kitchen this morning, what’s good enough for my father.”

Astoria put that same hand up to stop him going any further. Coyness she might feign, but when it came to respect that was another matter, whomever they were talking about.

“Enough Draco.” She admonished.

This is your father’s house, he is an adult as is Hermione, they can do as they damn well please.”

“And it would seem, wherever they damn well please.” Draco added.

There was no malice in his tone, only humour as he tried to withhold a smile. Surprised humour at that, and if she wasn’t very much mistaken, a certain amount of admiration, dare she think approval.

“And your point is?”

Astoria said laughing, the remark was a tad out of character for him, but it was a pleasure to hear him in such buoyant good spirits.

“If it’s good enough for my father.” Draco chanced his luck a little bit further.

Astoria continued to fend him off, seeing him in his own home like this, as she had done this last couple of days, so much fell into place for her, her mind racing.

They might have only just got back together as a couple, but they had remained friends and during the intervening months, and on the very few occasions she had seen him, Draco Malfoy had looked anything but happy or in any form of good spirits. Their conversations had only been brief, the young blonde always needing to return home for some reason or another. Astoria had surmised that all had not been as it should at the Manor, but she didn’t ask. She had been shocked when she had seen the story about his parents in the Daily Prophet. After that, she hadn’t seen Draco at all until a few weeks ago when he reappeared on their social circuit.

As they had become close once again, he had slowly begun to tell her of the concerns he’d had for his father following the publication of the article. She got the feeling he wasn’t telling her everything, but then that was typical Draco, he would get there eventually. He didn’t like talking about his family, especially not with her after what had happened, and he wasn’t always comfortable with feelings, his own included, but she’d noticed again, over the last few weeks or so, that too had changed. Something was different about him, not only was he more relaxed but he seemed to have a very different view of things.

When Draco had told Astoria that Hermione Granger was staying at Malfoy Manor, she’d been stunned. Of course, she knew her, but purely by name and reputation, Draco’s attempts to convince her that they knew each other, causing several heated exchanges. But one thing she did know about one third of the so called Golden Trio was that, Draco Malfoy, and his family come to that, had, to put it mildly, at one point, had no time for her, or other Muggles. Astoria’s own parents view on this, was more than likely one of the reasons why Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy did not approve of her as a suitable companion for their only son.  She hadn’t taken Draco to task over this but was curious none the less, and in his own time Draco had explained that, Hermione Granger and his father were _helping each other._ Mister Malfoy was assisting with some background on his time in Azkaban and the effects it had had on him, and apparently the young witch was in turn helping Draco’s father come to terms with those effects. Astoria didn’t really have an opinion on this one way or another, except for the fact she was grateful for the changes she had seen in Draco, which seemed to coincide with his association with Hermione Granger.

Considering what Draco had told her about his father in recent months, the invitation to lunch at the Manor with some of their friends the previous day had been somewhat of a shock, especially after the way she had been treated by his parents formerly. The Lucius Malfoy she had encountered yesterday was like a different man.

“And what if your father or Hermione were to come and check on us?” She countered.

 

Astoria had read the more recent article, well interview really, in the Daily Prophet and found herself more than a little impressed. Initially, if she was being honest, she hadn’t fully understood what Draco had tried to tell her about his father’s involvement with Hermione Granger, but the article, remarkably for Rita Skeeter actually put that into perspective, along with the work that the much talked about young witch did.  Whatever she did or was doing, it was certainly having a profound effect on both father and son, the young brunette could only be silently grateful on Draco’s behalf and of course her own.  

His floo call this morning, asking her to lunch for a second day at Malfoy Manor had been a total surprise, they had agreed to meet again today, but she honestly hadn’t expected it to be a return invitation to his home, she had none the less been delighted, especially when he informed her that Hermione Granger would be joining them, she would at least get to _finally meet_ her. Draco had then gone off completely on a tangent, rattling on about his suspicions, that there was maybe more to his father’s involvement with the young woman than a professional element. As she had done only moments before, she had tried to rein in his thoughts, knowing just how easily he was swayed and not always in the right direction.

“Enough Draco.” She had insisted at his distorted image in the fire.

“You are just getting carried away, from what _little.”_ She emphasised the word, trying to remind Draco that he did not always confide in her as much as a boyfriend might.

“You have told me, and from what I read in the Daily Prophet, the work that your father is doing with Hermione is pretty intense. Of course, they would have forged a strong bond, possibly even seem to others that there was something more to their _relationship,_ but I would imagine that could easily happen in this sort of situation _.”_

His face in the fire was twisted enough as it was, but as Draco had whinged that he was getting fed up with being surrounded by such smart, level headed women who knew so much better than him, she imaged it had become even more so. 

Her reasoning had been ridiculously short lived, when she arrived at Malfoy Manor to be greeted by, not “Hello Astoria” from Draco but by an overly excited “I told you so.” It was rapidly followed by an almost blow by blow account of what he had witnessed in the kitchen between his father and Hermione Granger. Fortunately, he’d had the good grace to leave them in private before she could get any more graphic details.

Again, she had tried to calm him, stop him from getting too carried away, that this was anything more than just a _fling,_ once again brought about by those intense conversations and close bond they would have established with the work they were involved in. But the minute Hermione Granger had walked into the room, Astoria Greengrass had conceded defeat, Draco was right. There was much more to his father’s relationship with the young woman with whom they had been at school with, she could see it plainly.  As they day had gone on and lunch had been enjoyed, Astoria had even gone one step further than her excited boyfriend, although she said kept her observations from him. She saw two people very much in love, whether they knew it or not.

Before the storm had grabbed her attention, well frightened the living daylights out of her actually, Astoria had covertly but closely watched the pair. If anything, they were more in tune, more at one with each than she and Draco. But that kind of relationship, that kind of understanding came with maturity, and whilst Draco had matured a lot since she had first gotten to know him, he could still be a little juvenile, even quite childish at times. She never thought she would ever hear herself say this, even if it wasn’t out loud, but she hoped that he would one day mature into the man his father was.  Hermione Granger was only a couple of years older than Astoria, but looking at her, and listening to her speak, she was a young woman wise beyond her years. A blind man could see why she was so in sync with Lucius Malfoy.

If she were being honest, Astoria had been a little nervous about meeting Draco’s old school nemesis, by her reputation and after what Draco had seen fit to impart, but if anything, she had been less awkward and less intimidated by her than she had been by Draco’s mother. Narcissa Malfoy was a cold unfeeling woman, her pureblood supremacy worn like crown. She looked down at Astoria, and it was clear from the outset her presence in the Manor was not welcome and neither was her involvement with her son. Those feelings had exuded from her husband as well, and he had been more vocal with his disapproval, his disdain so much more apparent and he could not have made her feel any less welcome if he’d slammed the door in her face. That was about as far removed as you could get from the man she had encountered over the last two days.

As well as being what, 25 years younger than Draco’s father? Hermione was also the polar opposite to his frigid, dispassionate wife. She was warm and friendly, she had no walls around her and no pretences. She was happy to tease Draco, again about their apparent knowing of each other, which he still wouldn’t let drop. As a Muggle born of her time, she too must have gone through hell, been shut out, made to feel unwanted. Draco and his family would have only added to that, she was certain, it was probably one of the reasons she made Astoria feel so welcome, the need to put her at her ease coming so naturally to her, understanding how she might feel.  But all of that aside, it really was the effect she had on the other Malfoy in the room which intrigued the young brunette, it was as if she had him under some kind of spell. Astoria was convinced of that, in the same way she was convinced there was absolutely nothing magical about it, not in their sense of the word anyway.

“Hello? Are you listening to me?”

Astoria realised Draco was talking to her, or rather he had been and for some time, and she hadn’t heard a single word he’d said, so wrapped in her own thoughts was she.

She met his blue eyes apologetically.

“Oh sorry, I was miles away.”

“Obviously.” He said a little petulantly.

There was that typically juvenile reaction, but Astoria knew how to pander to the young blonde’s ego, funnily enough she’d also seen Hermione do it earlier, with both Draco and his father. She had it down to a very fine art.

“I was just thinking how right you were that was all.”

She gave him a flattering smile, seeing his face soften immediately.

“About your father and Hermione, everything you’d said just falling into place.”

That softening face, turned to one of glee, and Draco puffed his chest ever so slightly. It worked like a charm every time.

“Wasn’t I just.”

“From what you’ve told me, she’s obviously good for him.” Astoria said, choosing her next words more carefully.

“I don’t know what he was like, when you dropped off the scene, but he’s so different from when I first met him and your mother. I was just thinking about it.”

She saw the enthusiasm curb a little in Draco’s pale face.

It was odd, at times Draco found it easier to talk to Hermione than he did his own girlfriend, but he guessed that was because she knew all about his father, how he was, how he had been. He hadn’t confided everything in Astoria, even if she was his girlfriend, he felt a like he was betraying a confidence, betraying his father.  He knew his father now talked to Hermione about all sort of things, and taking into account the relationship he now knew they had, he probably told her all sorts of personal, very intimate things, maybe even about him. Draco knew he’d told Hermione about how he and his mother had treated Astoria, so perhaps it was okay to confide more things in his own girlfriend. He screwed up his face, prompting Astoria to ask….

“Draco what’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing really, oddly!” He still found it hard to believe he wasn’t having a hissy fit about his father and Hermione.

“I just thought of my father and Hermione as boyfriend and girlfriend, oddly enough it really doesn’t bother me, but it’s weird none the less.” Draco had regressed to his favourite word once more.

“I wonder why they haven’t said anything, why they are being so secretive?”

Draco’s pondering aloud, met with two neatly plucked very raised eyebrows, and a silent “really?”

He had hardly been forthcoming about his rekindled romance with Astoria, and it was only Granger’s prompting that had encouraged him to do so at all. The idea of telling his father quite daunting, scary even.  Surely Astoria didn’t think that his father and Hermione telling him, was that unnerving, that was ridiculous. But as he thought about his own reaction, he could perhaps see her point. He could quite easily have thrown that hissy fit, he had half expected himself to. He could have been disgusted, really angry, feeling that his father had betrayed his mother in some way, that Granger had gone behind his back. Admittedly some of those things had crossed his mind, but they hadn’t remained, they had simply kept on going.

Not so long ago he would have felt all of those emotions and they would have stayed and festered and Salazar alone knew how he might have reacted. But those would have been the reactions of the old Draco Malfoy, the son of the pureblood wizard who would **never** have, as his mother had so disgustingly put it, demeaned himself or sullied his pureblood lineage with a Mudblood.

Something else occurred to him perhaps it was talking to Astoria in this way about them, perhaps it was the horrible thoughts he might have once had.

“If it’s serious and they go public, I think it’s going to anger and upset a lot other people.”

Astoria toyed with her winning Queen. The thought had occurred to her, she could see the relationship between Draco’s father and the young witch was serious, there was no doubt about it.  Whether they chose to acknowledge that or even realised it, was their own business, but if they did, and they did go public, Astoria knew Draco was right. It was something else the Draco Malfoy of old would not have thought about, again even in such a short time, she saw Hermione Granger’s influence. One thing that Draco was always saying about her was that she was always scarily honest with him and never held back. At times because of what had happened in the past with his parents, Astoria was prone to treading carefully with her beau, perhaps Hermione was right. The difference in Draco indicated that clearly, she was.

“Again, Draco you’re right.” She lifted her gaze from the ivory figure., her warm brown eyes settling on his concerned face.

“As an outsider.” She noticed him frown at her choice of words.

“And as a woman.” She went on quickly.

“Even if _they_ don’t realise it, they looked pretty serious to me.”

Draco regarded the second ridiculously astute female who had agreed to come back into his life despite how they had been treated. Like Granger, she was proving to be right more often than not. He felt that same sense of overwhelming gratitude towards Hermione Granger, who was now his friend, he doubted one would have happened without the other.  It was also most likely, why he had been so bizarrely delighted to discover what had been going on between her and his father. Maybe initially that had been for purely selfish reasons, but as the conversation with Astoria had gone beyond his almost childlike excitement and I told you so’s, he began to realise other things, things which tempered his excitement, giving way to a harsh very adult reality.

Hermione hadn’t given away much, to him anyway about her lunch with the Weasley’s yesterday, but from what she had said, even he could gather some were not entirely happy about her involvement with his father, and that was just professionally, information gleaned from a newspaper article. There were plenty around like the Weasley’s, he knew that from personal experience, and much as it pained him to admit it, he knew his father was even more despised by some than he was.

Any sort of public relationship between Hermione Grainger and Lucius Malfoy would be extremely difficult and very hard on both of them.

Before he would not have given his father’s wellbeing a second thought, not because he didn’t care but quite simply because his father was Lucius Malfoy, he could handle anything. But he’d seen first hand what Azkaban and time spent with the Dark Lord had done to him. He was so much more like his old self now, actually he was nothing like his old self, Lucius Malfoy was a man Draco didn’t recognise, but he was that man he had always imagined him to be. It was what made the younger Malfoy so uncertain as to what his father could really handle now.  

 

Hermione however, was a force to be reckoned with, someone you didn’t want to cross, and he knew more than anything she would be there for his father, she had already proved that, but against _others,_ the outside world, would it be enough?

With Hermione behind him, or even at his side, he could see that difference even more clearly. He had worried that if Hermione left, would his father regress back into that dark horrible place, now he worried if she stayed and they remained together, would they both be forced into a dark horrible place?

Astoria could see the cogs in Draco’s mind turning, and she knew she had set them in motion.

“I know how horrible people can be, once upon a time I was one of those horrible people.” He bowed his head shamefully at his own admission.

Astoria had always known a very different side of Draco Malfoy than others, but as he spoke now, in the childlike anguish and affection, she saw and heard that maturity of his father shining through.

“I don’t want my father, either of them to be hurt.” He added quietly.

As well as being smart, honest and ridiculously astute, Astoria Greengrass was like Hermione Granger in other ways too. Now she was laughing at him, just like Granger did, and just like her, he knew it was in a nice way. But just like as was often the case with Granger, he didn’t know why.

“Hmm, just how fearsome did you say Hermione was?”  Her brown eyes brimming with warmth.

She saw a frown flicker across Draco’s face.

“And what did she say to you about us?”

Realisation dawned, and Draco nodded his blonde head, taking the ivory queen from his girlfriend’s hand and placing it back on the board. Standing, he grasped both of her hands in his and pulled her to her feet, drawing her into his embrace. He touched his mouth softly to hers and ran his fingers through her silky mane of hair.

“I hate being _surrounded_ by women who are always bloody right and so bloody clever.”  

“I think that’s check mate Draco.”  She replied smiling tenderly before she kissed him gently on the lips.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	108. Sleeping Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the story nears its end my thanks are none the less heartfelt for your support and kind words. I shall continue to apologise for any faux pas etc. And hope you continue to enjoy the remaining chapters.

The darkness and lashing rain still encircled the Manor, in the distance the storm could still be heard and every so often it rumbled closer. Draco and Astoria had returned upstairs, before Hermione went to check on them, with Kauno and Isa at her heel, she found them in the drawing room. 

The curtains in this room had been drawn and someone, presumably Draco had lit yet another fire. He was reclining one of the two sofas, with Astoria curled up alongside him.  It was a very domestic and cosy scene, the brunette was holding a glass of red wine, and Draco had a Firewhiskey on the small occasional table beside him. She couldn’t help feeling that despite, as Lucius had put it, not catching them playing with more than just ivory chess pieces, she was interrupting and made to leave the room.

“Firewhiskey or red wine?” Draco offered without a second thought, his almost lazy voice drifting across the large room.

She glanced at Astoria who smiled brightly at her. It obviously wasn’t strange seeing Draco so relaxed and content in his own home, but it was seeing him both, with the young woman at his side, who not a week ago he had been frightened to speak to his father of.

Hermione came fully into the room, the dogs settling themselves as close to the fire as they could get. Draco looked at the dogs and then at Hermione, shaking his head and smiling, it still amused him how quickly she had won them over, although it did kind of speak for all of them.

“Err wine, thanks Draco, are you sure I am not interrupting.”

She looked once again at the pretty brunette, sitting on the opposite sofa, it was she who answered Hermione.

“Having beaten Draco at chess, he is either sulking or on his best behaviour.” Astoria said wrinkling her nose at a frowning Draco.

“So, your _interruption_ is most welcome.” She returned her attention to Hermione.

“I would go with sulking.” Hermione volunteered taking the glass of red wine which drifted towards her.

Astoria’s smile turned into a giggle, and she nodded her head in agreement.

Not wishing to get caught in the middle of these too Draco didn’t comment, he put his nose in the air pretending to ignore them both.

Hermione noticed how he squeezed Astoria’s had fondly, an affectionate smile passing easily between them.

“What have you done with my father?” He asked.

Hermione also noticed the look which Astoria shot the young blonde at his question. He gave her a “what?” kind of look in return. Receiving a “you know full well what” glare back.

A little curious, Hermione nonetheless explained his father’s absence from the room.

“We got an owl from Kingsley Shacklebolt, he invited us to the Ministry for lunch tomorrow, I left your father in the study replying to it.”

The entire sentence all but stupefied him, an owl from the Minister on a Sunday, the “we” part and the invite to lunch. But it was where Hermione had left his father that astonished him more than anything.

 “THE STUDY?” Draco repeated slowly, his voice steeped in surprise.

His reaction went right over Astoria’s silky dark head, but Hermione knew exactly what he was getting at, realising perhaps she should have omitted where, she had left Lucius replying to the missive.

His wide eyes fixed on Hermione, Draco must have sensed Astoria’s wondering.

“My father’s study is strictly off limits to everyone, except those two.” He gestured the sleeping dogs with his free hand, picking up his Firewhiskey as it moved back towards himself.

Astoria wasn’t looking at Draco as he explained his comment. Her brown eyes caught Hermione’s a look this time passing between the two women.

“Unless you are invited in.” Lucius voice drifted menacingly across the room.

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his face flushing. His father’s entrance and remark catching him unawares. Hermione saw a similar discomfort in his companion but despite the menace in his voice, and his always imposing presence which filled any room, she noticed the sparkle in his eyes as he took in the scene before him. He lifted his hand and a glass identical to the one Draco was holding filled with a measure of the same golden liquid and moved towards him.

Lucius took a seat, the one on the sofa next to Hermione, her eyes one again met Astoria’s. If she had imagined that knowing look before on the other woman’s face, there was no mistaking it this time, her cheeks flushed, and she took a sip of her wine.

“You were all swapping tales of school earlier.” Lucius began, making himself more comfortable.

His drink in one hand, he crossed his long elegant legs and allowed his free arm to drift to the back of the sofa, behind Hermione. The young witch this time avoided catching Astoria’s eye.

“As you were not fond of sharing your _escapades_ at Hogwart’s Draco, Hermione thought it might be fun to do so.”

Quickly recovering from yet another astounding revelation, that his father had obviously allowed Granger to us the pensieve. He found his own face flushing, profusely. Granger knew far too much about what he had got up to at school, and even as a Slytherin before him, his father might not be too impressed with his antics.

“I have to say even now it is still very satisfying watching my son defeat Harry Potter in a duel.”

Draco’s flushed face regarded Hermione, if it was the duel he was thinking about, he hadn’t beaten Potter, the Gryffindor had well and truly whooped his arse, much to Professor Snape’s disgust. Over the top of his heavy crystal glass he saw Granger wink at him. She had apparently and thankfully modified the memory to omit that bit.

“It would appear however you did not fair quite so well with the mandrake?”

It was Astoria who laughed out loud, she was now the only person in the room, who had not been party to this particular incident, but Lucius’ tone and the look on both his face, and his son’s told a story all of their own.

Draco took another sip of his drink, whilst the fun might be being poked at him, it was actually quite a nice feeling. He’d watched the easy comradery with Granger, Potter and Weasley whilst they were at school, he’d even seen Granger and Potter enjoying it with the Weasley family, but it was something, even at home with his parents he had never enjoyed. And with Crabbe and Goyle, well truthfully, he’d just bullied them.

“It bit me.” He protested, a childish very sulky look creeping across his face, matching his tone of voice to perfection.

This time it was Hermione who laughed out loud, helpfully filling in the blanks for Draco’s clearly amused girlfriend, but very much in the dark girlfriend.

“It did, but then you did irritate the hell out of it and then stick your finger in its mouth.”

Draco looked suitably sheepish, but laughed at Granger’s recollection.

“I was all set to punch it.” He added cheerfully.

Lucius saw the happiness and contentment on his offspring’s face. It was something he had never seen quite so bountifully before, and derived from such a simply unpretentious pleasure. They only times he, Narcissa and Draco had sat down together was at mealtimes, and that wasn’t very often. Heavy silences had hung in the air, there was little in the way of conversation, and what there was had rarely been light or fun. They have never shared anything like this.

“Will you be staying the night my dear?” Lucius asked Astoria, seemingly quite innocently and harmlessly.

Oddly enough the crimson hue stung Draco’s cheeks once more, the Dark Wizard realising perhaps he might have phrased his question more politely or maybe even better still not asked it at all. But then why shouldn’t he ask, none of them were children, it was a simple and civil enough question and he was done with secrets in this house.  He sought to justify his enquiry, but oddly despite being asked such a direct and potentially awkward it question was Astoria who responded to Lucius. Clearly leaving any mortification to his own son.

“If that is alright with you Mister Malfoy, I would like that very much.”

Lucius felt the same sense of guilt he had the previous day when this young woman had been in his home. Wondering why he and Narcissa had made her so unwelcome; he really liked her. Yesterday there had been a handful of Draco’s friends here, so paying particular attention to his son’s companion was difficult.  Today, he saw something else in the dark, very attractive young woman, he saw a spark, a feisty spark which reminded him of Hermione. Visibly and physically he could see why his son was so attracted to her, but in the last few weeks he’d come to realise how much like him Draco was, he would want and need more than just the visible and the physical.

“I doubt I need to get the house elves to make up a spare room.” He ventured, devilment getting the better of him, to test his theory at least.

Hermione was a little surprised by his remark, now he surely was embarrassing the poor girl, her glance flittered amongst the three. Draco sat almost dumbfounded by his father’s remarks his face scarlet, Hermione wasn’t sure if it was just embarrassment or quite possibly a touch of anger. But as Astoria held her ground with Lucius, she saw admiration reflected in his grey eyes, and an approving smirk curling his lips. The young witch realised it was more than just an awkward question, Lucius was testing her, baiting her even.  

Astoria responded by giving Lucius a confident smile, it lit her brown eyes with a defiant brightness.  She was in no way ashamed of the depth of her relationship with Draco and was now clearly prepared to stand up to his father. Hermione appreciatively and rather amusedly noticed her chin rise as she replied to his question.

“Not unless you have any objections to my sleeping with your son Mister Malfoy?” She said boldly.

Oh, bravo to both of you thought Hermione, her lips twitching as she restrained a smile of her own. Glancing briefly at the younger blonde, she saw a similar reflection of admiration in his pale blue eyes. They narrowed slightly as they returned to his father, waiting for his response.

“None whatsoever my dear, none whatsoever.” His tone was as clipped as ever but filled with appreciation, his eyes glittering with the same emotion, tinged with joy.

Lucius really liked this girl, Draco needed a strong woman in his life, and one that was really nothing like his mother. Astoria Greengrass was very respectful, in some ways she was very quiet, but in others she was incredibly feisty and strong. He and Narcissa had been very wrong about her, and very wrong in how they had treated her. Something else Lucius would need to recompense.  

Lucius admiring gaze drifted to the other feisty and incredibly strong woman in the room. Just another thing to add to the ever-growing list of things to thank her for. He took a long, contented sigh, savouring the warm glow that enveloped him, every time he felt it, it grew stronger and it lasted so much longer. He truly loved that feeling. A slow even more contented smile curved his lips as he brushed them to the cool crystal of the glass.

 

Perhaps it was all the memories they had shared during the day, the earlier talk of Azkaban that caused Lucius to have a nightmare.  It wasn’t as violent as they had previously been, but his sudden calling out and jerky movements were enough to wake the young witch. The Dark Wizard had already been pulled from his own slumber by the distressing thoughts and images.

The dark ominous clouds which had enshrouded the Manor for most of the afternoon and evening, had gone, leaving the night clear and bright. Moonlight streamed into the master bedroom, it fell upon the bed, highlighting Lucius pale, clammy skin, his usually lustrous blonde hair, tangled and damp. Hermione didn’t speak, she simply moved closer to his distressed form, her slender hand coming to rest on his heaving chest, her fingers moving softly against the light covering of hair.

Lucius too remained silent, his breathing gradually returning to normal. Hermione thought he might just drift back to sleep, but she felt him take a deep slow, steadying breath. His voice quietly questioning and a little apprehensive in the moonlight.

“Can I show you what haunts my sleep?”

At first Hermione wasn’t sure what Lucius meant. But then she realised; maybe not always, but in this instance, the demons which permeated his subconscious were actually a real memory, something which had actually happened to him and which had come back to haunt him.

Today she had shared happy recollections with him in the pensieve, now in the deep of night, for whatever reason Lucius wanted to share this not so happy memory with her. Even still drowsy with sleep and in the middle of the night, her ever sharp brain fractured in two. But with oddly, the same thought. The woman in her was a little scared, but strangely happy that Lucius would want to share any of his past with her in this way, especially one clearly so painful and so dark. The professional in her wasn’t in the least bit scared but felt that oddly joyous thrill, that Lucius felt comfortable enough with her to want to share something so horrible and clearly terrifying.

Sleep now totally banished, she reminded herself once more, of the reasons why she was actually in this house, reasons which at times were becoming all too easy to forget, well one of them at least, the one that she was here for, work. All of these things did help her, did give her that valuable insight that kept being referred to, but working anywhere but here all seemed a distant memory of her own at the moment.  She never forgot the other reason though, the real reason, to help Lucius. Of course, she still wanted to help him, for himself, for Draco, but now she wanted to help him for herself, her feminine self not her professional self.  The odd thing was since she had come to realise that she had actually fallen in love with this man, nothing had changed, everything had been the same all along. Her feelings, her desire and her striving to help him, do the best for him, were exactly the same as the were, the day she had agreed to help Draco.

As she eased herself gently up onto her elbow, and the hand that had been resting on Lucius chest, acciod their robes, Hermione realised that her feelings were not so sudden after all. Those feelings had just been guiding her in this direction and of course had been the reason why she had agreed to help Draco in the first place, had quite probably even been the reason why she had agreed to have dinner with the former Death Eater in the first place.  That realisation was a little more unnerving than anything Lucius Malfoy might reveal to her in the pensieve.

“Of course, Lucius, anything.” Her voice was strong and firm in the semi darkness. The realisation might be a little unnerving, but the actuality gave her untold courage, and a strength she knew she was going to need, for more reasons than one.

 

The pensieve, held no childhood memories as it once again slid into the room from behind the panelled wall in Lucius’ study. Hermione was too rapt in the man himself, he wanted to share this with her, the nightmare had been painful enough, the memory itself was clearly going to be no different. He had talked of his splintered, disturbing dreams before, she had quite literally been caught up in the them, but to witness first-hand what had caused them was very different. They had shared intimacy on many levels, this took that intimacy to another plane. Perhaps it had been her willingness, her ease to share memories of her childhood, of her parents with him, but honestly Hermione didn’t care. Again, both personally and professionally, for her this was a huge step, for Lucius himself, whether he realised it or not it was an enormous breakthrough. Mentally Hermione prepared herself not only for the revelation but also for the effect it may have on Lucius.

 


	109. Lasciate Ogne Speranza Voi Ch’Intrate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As ever and so near to the end, I am overwhelmed by you lovely comments. I have been a little naughty with this chapter, crossing from page to screen, but I hope you will forgive me, I like to cherry pick all of the best bits. With that I of course apologise for any faux pas and hope you enjoy the chapter.

 

Despite _only_ being memories, those cast into the pensieve were like watching what Muggles would call a movie. They were as entirely accurate as the recollection and intensely graphic. Peering into the silvery swirl, Hermione immediately felt the icy chill of Azkaban, its oppressive darkness engulfing her immediately. Her own short stay had given her only the briefest glimpse of the hellish fortress, Lucius’ memory dragged her encompassingly in.

 

Every one of the terrifying nightmares Lucius Malfoy suffered were a variation on a theme. They all revolved around the same two horrifying events, his yearlong incarceration in Azkaban Prison; 365 long days and endless nights of the same monotonous, ceaseless misery, which drifted into the second. Taking him from one unrelenting hell straight in to another, his perpetual humiliation at the hands of the Dark Lord.

Lucius looked dreadful, even in the darkness of his cell there was no hiding it. Tortured in sleep by his nightmares or unwashed and inebriated he looked bad, but this went way beyond anything Hermione had seen before, or could even begin to imagine. When she had seen him at the Battle of Hogwarts, pleading with Draco on the outer courtyard, he’d looked but a shadow of his former self, nothing like the arrogant well-dressed man she had first encountered in Flourish and Blotts.

Shackled and dirty on the thin wooden bed he looked almost unrecognisable. His filthy lank hair lifted under the weight of the dirt as the swirling wind outside whistled through the narrow-carved slits which passed for windows. His beautiful grey eyes were darkly circled and red rimmed. From lack of sleep and possibly even from tears, Hermione couldn’t be certain, in response she felt the heated swell of tears prick her own eyes, her throat constricting painfully as she continued to watch.

There were no expensively tailored robes to keep out the bone chilling cold, in their place was the thin pale striped prison uniform. Hermione instinctively pulled her own robe around her, scratching at her skin, she could still feel the touch of the abrasive material against her own flesh, worn for a mere few hours, Lucius must have been all but tearing at his skin after so long in it. Another thing to drive you insane, as if that was needed.

Hermione could see Lucius’s breath misting in the air, the bitter cold intensifying, but with a very different feel, that horrifying iciness which came with the arrival of the Dementors. Even as an observed memory, her blood chilled, and she felt that awful sadness that came with the heinous creatures, the feeling that you had abandoned all hope of anything, of everything, that there was nothing left only never-ending sadness and despair.  During her last visit to Azkaban, more so than those before, she had understood all too well how it would have been so easy to have abandoned hope, the conversations she’d had with Lucius since and what she was witnessing now brought that home all too clearly.

She focused on Lucius, the terror evident in his face and in his body. His long elegant fingers were as dirty as the rest of him, they clenched tightly into the paper-thin bedding beneath them, his filthy feet retracted under the bed, his head dipping in a hopeless attempt to conceal himself from the dark ghostly figure which now hovered gloomily in his tiny cell. Hermione impulsively wanted to protect Lucius, subconsciously reaching for her wand, pulling herself up to her full height. Her movement causing her to move back ever so slightly, immediately sensing the real Lucius behind her. She didn’t turn or acknowledge his presence, she continued to watch the tortured soul before her. She could see him visibly shaking, the tears she had suspected, clearly welling in his pained silver-grey eyes, threating to spill onto his pale cheeks. Hermione felt her hand rise, once more fighting that impulse to reach out and touch Lucius, wipe away his tears. But just as she would have been then, she was powerless to help him. The dark cloaked figure swooped about the tiny cloying cell, tormenting and terrifying him. Shrouding him in that icy sense of doom and despondency. Lucius pushed himself back on the small wooden bed, the hateful creature swooped again, closer this time, it’s darkness so stark against Lucius’ pallor, it’s hideous form threatening, but never quite doing. The promise of what it could or might do to him hanging in the air with the icy breath and the sour stench of fear.

Hermione felt air warm slightly, the sound of whistling wind and crashing waves replaced by creaking boats and gently lapping water.  Lucius was no longer shackled, he was free, free to go directly to his second circle of hell.

The room was almost as dark as his cell in Azkaban, a few random candles and lights from outside illuminating it with a dim gloom, but Hermione recognised it and the two figures within its walls.

“My Lord.” Lucius voice was desperate and cracked.

Voldemort turned disdainfully to face him, twirling his wand between his white, taloned fingers.

Hermione shivered once more, this time it had nothing to do with the falling temperature. Lucius entire being seemed to quaver, just as Hermione’s was doing now, she felt every bit of his fear.  He no longer wore the thin striped uniform of Azkaban, his clothing was dark, expensive looking even and had once borne the trappings of his title and his position, now they just seemed as jaded, and out of place as he did. He was no longer covered in the filth and grime of the dank jail, but his face was swathed in dark unkempt stubble, his once glossy mane of white gold hair hanging limply and uncaringly about his tense shoulders.

Whilst he bore no physical scars, his face and eyes bore the mental marks of the punishments he had received both in the prison and at the hands of the man he now stood before. Hermione saw the contempt in Voldemort’s narrow, snake like eyes.

“My son….”

Hermione barely heard the whispered words slip from Lucius’ lips, the scorn for such love and sentimentality over another human being, clearly visible in Voldemort’s cold unfeeling eyes. That someone should care for another living soul, so completely alien to this abhorrent man. Her heart broke for Lucius, flinching as he was struck by the man he once so revered, feeling the salty heat of tears finally fall upon her cheeks, Hermione compelled herself to keep watching.

“How can you live with yourself Lucius?” Voldemort all but hissed at him, his tone steeped in revolted derision.

Hermione shook with Lucius, the tears falling freely as he responded in a quaking tone. The sad and ironic thing about Voldemort’s hateful words, were, Lucius hadn’t been able to live with himself. Again, even in his memory, she wanted to lash out, put herself between the two men, defend Lucius Malfoy for all she was worth. How very different it would have been at the time, then she would happily have seen both men dead, now she would defend one of them with her own life.   

Hermione turned slowly to face Lucius, his blonde head was bowed, his shoulders drooping just as they had done in his memories. Her own face was damp with tears, her blood racing with adrenalin, but her brown eyes were sparkling brightly with defiance. 

The moonlight lit this room with its vast expanse of glass, with much more ferocity than the master bedroom and coupled with the glow from the pensieve, and his proximity, as he sadly raised his grey blue eyes, Lucius could see the young witch’s face and expression clearly. The tears he had perhaps expected, if not, then definitely sadness, horror even, maybe a little disgust, but never pity. However, the look he saw reflected in those beautiful compassionate brown eyes was not what he had expected at all. He seen them sparkling with this kind of defiance before, and not unsurprisingly so, but now?

His throat was dry and tight from what he knew she had witnessed, he couldn’t find his voice, let alone any words. His hand shook slightly from his own vivid memories as he ran his thumb across her damp cheek, needing to touch her, to feel her softness and her warmth, he left his hand resting against it, inclining his head questioningly. Without being a legilimens, Hermione had developed an uncanny knack of reading his thoughts and his body language, hopefully this would not be an exception. She gave him one of those gentle reassuring smiles, her own warm hand coming to cover his, the fingers tightening against his own.

“Thank you.” She said quietly, noticing the faintest flicker of surprise cross his face.

“I know how difficult it was for you to share those with me, or anyone else.”

She moved his hand from her cheek, bringing it to her mouth and brushing her lips against his still trembling fingers.

“From what you had already told me, it wasn’t difficult to understand why you suffer such awful nightmares. Seeing what you went through…”

Seeing Lucius about to speak, her own intuition kicked in once more. Her free hand coming up to his lips and effectively silencing him.

“And before you say it, no it isn’t any more than you deserve, and yes I know some people would say you deserved everything you got and much besides.”

His eyes dropped to the floor, avoiding her gaze.

“I think you have suffered and endured more than enough in your own way. You served your time in Azkaban, and traded one hell for another. Between the Dementors and Voldemort I am not surprised that you had no hope and that those nightmares still haunt you.”

Hermione felt and saw Lucius flinch at her words. Her fingers moved from his lips to his chin, titling his head gently upwards to face her.

“The other day at the Ministry, when you were talking to Harry.”

She paused waiting for him to acknowledge her words, what she was saying to him, the nod of his head was barely discernible.

“The night he saved Draco, I was with him.”

Lucius blue grey eyes were now wide and bright, in truth she could easily have put this memory into the pensieve, shown him how it had happened, but in many ways, she didn’t feel that it was her memory to share, and her being there wasn’t really the point she wanted to make, it was much more important than that.

“The memory you just showed me, in the boat shed, I think it must have happened minutes after Harry rescued him, of course you had no idea he was safe.”

It was a strange thing to admit at this moment, but Hermione had found herself wanting to assure the Lucius in the memory, that his son was fine, she couldn’t, it was just a past memory, it was an odd sensation. The sadness in Lucius face both in his recollection and now, was heart-breaking. But there was a reason behind Hermione’s admission, out of it came a chink of gratifying light, and something that she knew Lucius himself didn’t even realise.

“None of this might help with the nightmares Lucius, and truthfully as I have said before they may never go away completely. Something I have also told you many times before is punishing yourself will serve no useful purpose either. However, you may find letting go of the guilt will help.”

She refused to release his chin as it moved against her clasp, not allowing him to once more avoid her gaze. Her brown eyes daring him to defy or argue with her.

“Despite the awfulness of what you have shown me Lucius, one thing stands out to me above all else. How much you loved and cared for your son.”

Hermione saw Lucius eyes glisten like silver, just as they had done in the pensieve. Fighting her own tears once more she continued.

“You said that you didn’t love and care for him as you should, I don’t think that is true.”

The glistening in her eyes again drifted into defiance.

“Perhaps you didn’t show it as you should have done. But it was obvious even to Voldemort how much you loved him, that angered him all the more, that you would show those uncensored feelings to him. It that was something he could never understand or forgive. Letting him down, failing him as you had done, as he saw it, was one thing, feeling so much love, any kind of love for another person, that was beyond his comprehension, and really was your final downfall with him Lucius.”

Lucius knew that Hermione had witnessed his raw emotion, his utter weakness and powerlessness before the Dark Lord, even his tears in the pensieve, but he still battled against them all with her now. As he looked into her beautiful understanding face, he didn’t really know why. Narcissa had hated vulnerability or weakness of any kind, she abhorred stupidity, but that was more for self-preservation and keeping face, none of those things were important to Hermione, in fact it was completely the reverse. In many ways, she seemed to consider those vulnerabilities a strength, a strength of character, that as a man you could have such deep and powerful emotions and be prepared to show them, or share them.

Up until, what was it, a few short months ago? Lucius Malfoy had abandoned all hope, of what? Of just about everything. His plans for what he thought were his perfect future, had shattered into a million pieces along with a small glass ball in the Department of Mysteries. As he had entered the dark foreboding walls of Azkaban prison, any hope he’d had was left at the door or sucked from him by Dementors. Despite the love Narcissa tried to put back into their marriage, his life, his relationship with his son, something in him had died.

A reluctant night out with his son, somehow changed that, changed it beyond anything he could ever have imagined. The patience and understanding of a young woman, he had once found abhorrent, had once persecuted, had brought hope back into his miserable existence, had brought an easy honest joy into his life that he’d never know before. Hermione Granger’s compassion and her determination had given him a relationship with his son that he’d could never have expected, that even Narcissa with her magic could not have given him. It was done with that same straightforward honesty which came so naturally to her. His relationship with his son, his love for his son were of paramount importance to the former Death Eater, but Lucius Malfoy realised in that moment his relationship and his love for Hermione Granger were even more important to him.

As a tsunami of emotions threatened to overwhelm this once darkest of wizards, darkest of men, Lucius took Hermione gently in his arms, he wanted her as close to him as it was possible to be, in every sense of the word. He apparated them back to his bedroom, to what had become their bedroom, to his, to their bed. In the process with some powerful magic their clothing disappeared, leaving them just as Lucius had intended, as close as it was possible to be, in every sense of the word.

Lucius once more battled his emotions, but this time for very different reasons. Hermione had agreed to sleep in his bed, their relationship had changed. Only earlier today she had agreed to stay with him here at the Manor. They had shared so much, both mentally and physically, she had called him her lover, even to someone with such limited instincts and emotions, Lucius knew all of these things were positive.  But a confession of love from someone like him, a Death Eater, someone who had…..he could hear her admonishments, should he voice these labels aloud.

Hermione had been surprised at Lucius sudden apparation, even more so as they had landed naked in his bed, but at the same time it seemed very natural. He had been through some very powerful emotions, sex was another one of those, and what they shared pushed the boundaries way beyond that. That he would feel that kind of overwhelming need was understandable, and Hermione was only too pleased to share that need with him. But knowing him as she did, understanding him as she did, being so in tune with his potent and intense body, Hermione sensed something had changed, feeling that change through his body, his touch and simply something about his persona. She had enjoyed moments of the man she knew of old, before and during sex, it gave her a dark thrill. She had enjoyed gentle, tentative sex with him. But somehow this felt like a man she didn’t know.

Lucius was sure that this wasn’t the time to be talking about the Dark Lord, or to be talking about anything really, but his need to tell Hermione how he felt was now all consuming. He wanted her to know the strength of those feelings and in his mind, there was only one way to do that, to convey that depth.

“It would appear that I do have something in common with the Dark Lord.”

He saw the shock he had expected in her face as hovered above her. His body hard and powerful against the softness of her. His voice was gentle, his tone reassuring as he quoted her words back to her, with one _small_ alteration, and one small addition………

“Feeling so much love, any kind of love for another person, that was beyond my comprehension…. until now that is.”

Tears again stung Hermione’s eyes, joyous tears. _The man she didn’t know, wanted to make love to her._

She was unable to respond verbally to his words, her throat tight and burning with the tears she fought to withhold. Instead as so often was the case with them, her response was utterly physical but lovingly so, wrapping herself around him, pulling him to her and into her. Loving everything about him and not having to hide any of that love he so clearly felt for her too.  

 


	110. Strong, Smart Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here were are racing towards the New Year, but just a slow stroll towards the end of this story. Thank you all for continuing with your comments and of course simply reading. I hope you enjoy this easy little chapter...apologies as always for any errors etc...

 

Just like the previous morning, and despite their interrupted and eventful night, Hermione had woken early, and just like that previous morning and that interrupted and eventful night Lucius was still sleeping peacefully. Unlike the previous morning however, the little devil hadn’t wanted to wake the sleeping wizard, he had remained respectfully quiet and unobtrusive.  

It might be Monday morning, but there was no rush, they didn’t have to be at the Ministry until 1pm so again Hermione just let Lucius sleep.  If Saturday had been quite a day for both of them, then Sunday turned out to be momentous. Another smile tugged at her lips, yesterday she had thought how very natural and easy things seemed, this morning that was even more in evidence.  Several times recently, she had mused on how things had changed, today they had most certainly changed.

After the storm of the previous day, and following an exceptionally clear night, through the heavy curtains in the master bedroom another chink of bright sunlight had streamed in to the room. Stretching languorously and contentedly and with that same very broad smile curving her lips, Hermione had decided she would make the most of this glorious morning. Once again pulling on another pair of jeans and a thick sweater, she had again gone in search of the dogs, as always, they bounded happily along with her. It was funny, they might be Lucius dogs but she nearly always thought of Draco when she looked at them, his surprise and amusement at how quickly and easily she had won them over. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d feel the same way at how she’d won his father over?

Her thoughts of Draco reminded her of yesterday’s early morning walk, today her stroll in the beautiful grounds wasn’t interrupted by a breathless Draco, or owls of any kind. Much to the delight of the peacocks, the dogs left them in peace, the rain of the previous day conjuring all manner of far more interesting smells to distract them. She felt blissfully happy and relaxed as she continued her meander amongst the glorious array of spring flowers, their bright blooms slightly bowed under the weight of yesterday’s rainfall. Right now, she didn’t want to think about anything other than how happy she was, the upcoming lunch with Kinsley and how hungry she was suddenly feeling. Evidently a night of tender passion and declarations of love, gave a girl quite an appetite. She smiled and flushed all at once, making her way back to the house and to the kitchen.

The house elves had got used to her presence in the kitchen, sometimes they still took a little persuading to let her do something, but mostly they didn’t mind. They were a lot less comfortable when Hermione decided to cook breakfast or lunch, they knew she liked to eat in the kitchen and if the Master and Young Master were around, they would eat there too. Today however Hermione wasn’t sure who would, quite literally be up for breakfast of any sort. Draco notoriously lazed in bed at the best of times and with his guest she doubted she would see either of them before she and Lucius left for the Ministry, as for Lucius himself, well he didn’t often indulge in anything cooked for breakfast accept perhaps some toast.

Lunch with the Minister of Magic promised as always to be if not lavish, then large, Hermione decided a bacon sandwich was just what was needed.

The slim rashers sizzled in the pan, filling the air with an appetising smell. These were definitely going to be cooked the Muggle way, even if some magic aided with the thin, perfectly even, lightly buttered slices of bread.

 “I don’t suppose there is enough for two is there?”

A voice asked from behind her.

Hermione turned to find the elegant figure of Astoria Greengrass perched on the edge of the heavy wooden table, lost in her thoughts and over the loud sizzling, she hadn’t heard her enter the kitchen. She returned the young woman’s smile.

“Well I like a well filled sandwich so no, but I can make some more.”

With a quick flick of her wand, some extra rashers were added to the pan.

 “Tea or coffee?” She offered Astoria, who had now seated herself at the table.

“Oh Merlin, tea please, I cannot be doing with coffee in the morning.”

Hermione smiled knowingly at the other woman, she was exactly the same, and coffee with a bacon sandwich just wasn’t Quidditch.

“You are an excellent cook Hermione, and I love that you do actually cook.”

Hermione flushed at Astoria’s praise.

“Thank you, but it’s only simple home cooking. “

Astoria obviously wasn’t going to let Hermione belittle her accomplishments.

“However you like to refer to it, it’s delicious, yesterday’s lunch was superb and I couldn’t resist that smell as I came down the stairs, at least I knew where to find the kitchen.”

She said, gratefully sipped her tea. Hermione recognising that look of appreciation for the first cup of the day.

Hermione handed her an indeed, well filled sandwich, or bacon sani as her father always referred to them as, and sat down with her own. As the very beautiful, very slim young woman bit heartily into the soft white bread Hermione could withhold a smile. She had imagined her more of a black coffee and wholegrain toast kind of person, her tall incredibly slender figure did not scream cooked breakfasts, Hermione quickly chided herself for stereotyping.

“Did you sleep well?” Asked Hermione, immediately flushing at her own enquiry.

Astoria was clearly too immersed in her sandwich to think there anything untoward in Hermione’s question, wiping, what were perfectly glossed lips with the edge of her thumb, she swallowed.

“This is so good Hermione.”

Two slices of bread and a few bacon rashers we hardly a gastronomic feat or even feast, but Hermione accepted the compliment, sometimes there really was nothing better than a crafty cooked sandwich for breakfast, a naughty pastry during the day, or a sneaky bag of chips on a cold night. She knew where Astoria was coming from and also thought that she was avoiding the question, but apparently not.

“I did sleep very well thanks. It’s so ridiculously quiet here.”

Hermione couldn’t help a small burble of laughter that escaped her lips.

“That would be the silencing charms, Draco doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

Again, Hermione felt herself flushing, wondering if perhaps she should have kept that to herself, but once more the younger woman saw nothing untoward in Hermione’s comment, herself laughing, trying to eat and talk at the same time. Hermione was impressed with her multitasking.

“Ah that would explain a lot.” She volunteered her own cheeks taking on a slightly pink glow.

“Does Mister Malfoy have them around his room too?”

Astoria stopped laughing, stopped eating and stopped talking, all three being replaced by some very embarrassed coughing and spluttering. Her big brown eyes met Hermione’s across the table, that pink glow now replaced by a scarlet blaze.

Hermione had been right about that knowing look she had seen on Astoria’s face the previous afternoon. In truth, she honestly didn’t mind that Astoria knew she was in some way involved with Lucius, she liked Draco’s girlfriend, they even had quite a bit in common and they had got on very well. The problem was that if Astoria knew, then surely Draco must know, that worried Hermione.

Hermione’s brain raced, so many things scrambling around in her head; she wasn’t worried in the conventional sense of the word. Surely if Draco was aware that there was anything between his father and her, if he wasn’t happy about it, there is no way he would or could have kept his displeasure to himself.

She worried that he would feel deceived, lied to, that he would be angry that no one had told him, but then again, the Draco Malfoy, Hermione had known would not have been able to keep a lid on any of those emotions. A little voice reminded her, that this was not the Draco Malfoy she had once known, this was the caring son who had come to her and asked for help, and what had she done, that same little voice asked? Well even he had to admit she had helped Lucius, but she wasn’t entirely sure he would approve of her methods. Again, that little voice reminded her that if he hadn’t approved of her methods Lucius’ son would not have any thought twice about telling her precisely what he thought.

“I’m sorry Hermione, that was really rude of me I…”

Hermione shook her head, raising her hand. Her logical brain, well actually the little voice, suggesting this might be the perfect opportunity to find out exactly what Draco Malfoy thought, if indeed he did know, and it wasn’t just Astoria who had noticed anything between her and Lucius.

“It’s fine, my asking if you slept well wasn’t exactly tactful, was it?”

She quelled her own nerves, trying to put Astoria back at her ease.

The younger woman looked gratefully at Hermione for her understanding, but was not ready to let herself off the hook.

“Politely asking if someone slept well in a strange house is a little different, to being downright nosy about the owner of the house’s, sleeping arrangements.”

Hermione couldn’t help but laugh at Astoria’s accurate summation. She really did like her and had a feeling that they were going to be good friends. There was something about her, she was fun, she was forthright, and she was honest. 

“Well you were put on the spot a bit yesterday.” Hermione offered.

“That’s true but by Draco’s father, not by you.”

Hermione nodded also an accurate summation. She now felt a little awkward asking Astoria about Draco, she might feel she was talking out of turn.

“Draco knows…”  Astoria volunteered without a second thought.

Two sets of brown eyes once again met across the heavy wooden table.

Clearly Astoria didn’t think she was talking out of turn, and even more unnervingly knew what Hermione was thinking.

“Don’t worry Legilimency isn’t my thing, I’ve just had a lot of practice at reading people’s faces. Their unspoken thoughts and questions.”

She knew Draco’s girlfriend was talking about him and quite possibly his parents, back in the day when her presence in the Manor or in their son’s life hadn’t been so welcome. Hermione admired her frankness and her candour, she being a firm advocate of it, she duly returned it.

“I can imagine.” She sympathised before venturing further.

“How does Draco feel about it?” she asked tentatively, trying not to show her anxiety.

“He’s worried.” Astoria answered with that same forthright honesty.

“Worried?” Hermione repeated, not the response she was expecting at all.

As Astoria sat back in her seat and nodded, Hermione realised that she and Draco had discussed this, them, at some length, she waited for her to continue.

Astoria Greengrass wasn’t one for gossip or tittle tattle, but she knew that wasn’t the case here at all, it couldn’t be not when the person you were talking about was the person you were talking to.

She of all people understood precisely what it was like to worry about family’s reaction to your relationship, she was also well aware of how Draco had once felt about Hermione Granger.

“I get the feeling that Draco is very much like his father.”

This was also a rather unexpected comment; Astoria might be younger than her, but Hermione quickly realised that she was very perceptive for her years and that little escaped her attention. Hermione had the feeling the tables had been turned on her, but intuition told her go with it, and with her own usual upfront truthfulness.

“He is, more than either of them would probably admit.”

Astoria pushed her now empty plate away and cradled her tea cup.

“It’s difficult to get him to open up and talk about things.”

The younger brunette paused, Hermione nodded, she wasn’t wrong.

“He only actually found out about you and Mister Malfoy yesterday, one minute he had an inkling there was something going on, then he… _happened_ upon you in the kitchen, confirming his suspicions.”

Hermione felt the colour spread across her face, chest and then through her body at the thought. Merlin’s teeth, Draco had seen her and Lucius, her colour deepened. Thankful that Astoria had not gone into any great detail. The younger woman gave her a rueful smile.

“One minute he was ecstatic with boyish glee, that he’d been right and found you out, the next adult reality set in.”

Astoria painted another verbal picture that Hermione could easily see. Sipping her own tea, she nodded once more, and Astoria continued.

“Draco has told me some of his concerns about his father, although I don’t think he has told me everything.” She waived an elegant hand dismissively.

“That’s not important, Draco tells me things in his own time, he always has. He told me that you and Mister Malfoy were, helping each other, with your work and his father coming to terms with his time in prison. To be quite truthful with you Hermione, I was just grateful for how your involvement helped Draco, he was like a different person, and to be invited into this house again…well…”

Hermione had seen a difference in Draco, so had Lucius, but to hear someone else put it like that, it gave her a sense of pride both professionally and as a friend.

“Anyway, I digress, sorry.”

The younger witch, brought Hermione back from her own thoughts to the present.

“Draco was a little surprised at his own reaction to finding out you two were doing more than just working together. Sorry that sounds a little crude.”

Unable to speak at the tale which was unfolding, Hermione shook her head unconcerned, keen to hear more.

“I am not sure he realises just how serious you two are though.”

She paused exchanging that knowing look with Hermione once more. Very perceptive for her years thought Hermione.

“But he’s worried that if you decided to go public with your relationship that it wouldn’t be easy on either of you. We both know just how horrible people can be.”

“I used to be one of those horrible people.”

Both women looked up startled from the table, to see Lucius Malfoy standing in the doorway, they exchanged glances, Hermione concerned just how much of the conversation he had heard. He seemed to make a habit of lurking in doorways and hearing things that weren’t always good for him. Just like yesterday however, it was Astoria who voiced up to Draco’s father, totally unfazed by what he might have overheard.

“It’s funny Mister Malfoy, that is exactly what Draco said, I think that is perhaps why he is so worried.”

Lucius silvery blue gaze drifted admiringly from Astoria Greengrass, lovingly to Hermione Granger and then astutely back to his son’s girlfriend.

“Tell me my dear, how did you respond to my son?”

This time it was Astoria’s gaze that drifted between Draco’s imposing father and the woman he clearly adored, and then feistily back again to the dark wizard, smiling she replied.

“I reminded him what Hermione had said about he and I.”

Hermione noticed that now rather familiar jut of her chin as she spoke to Lucius, noticing an equally blonde brow rise in interest.

“At which point he told me, he hated being surrounded by women who are always so bloody right, and so bloody clever.”

Lucius’ mirth was a pleasure at any time of day, but his heartfelt amusement so early in the morning was a treat. His genuine enjoyment of Astoria’s recounting and a frighteningly accurate impression of Draco was plain to see and of course hear.

“What did I miss?” Came an enquiring voice from behind Lucius, as Draco wandered into the kitchen.

Lucius put his large hand on his son’s shoulder, his curiosity visibly deepening, his face now steeped in suspicion.

“I think perhaps in this instance my son is right, but thankfully so. He however omitted and so bloody strong. I for one have no objection to being surrounded by women of such qualities.”

Draco was not entirely awake yet, having been a little annoyed at finding his girlfriend absent from his bed, he had somewhat reluctantly got up and gone in search of her. Three sharp witted and always articulate people, really wasn’t what he needed first thing in the morning, that and the fact coming late to this particular party he seemed to have missed something, something very important at that. Although from the little bit he had heard, and his words being quoted by his father, he got the feeling it had something to do with him and something he had said.  

Again, it was Astoria who spoke first, she was a very intelligent young woman, who knew Draco incredibly well, her words bringing him fully into the discussion and not alienating him in any way. They also seemed to ensure his complicity in the conversation, whether he liked it or not.

“I was just explaining to Hermione and then to your father, that you were worried how some people might react when they found out about their relationship.”

Hermione hadn’t been entirely sure just how much of the conversation Lucius had overheard, but any blanks had been well and truly filled in for him now. She saw surprise in equal measure on the face of both Malfoy men, but her attention was caught by the attractive and rather cunning brunette who sat opposite her at the table. She had played this situation to perfection, quite possibly even better than Hermione could have done. Clearly that was the Slytherin in her, it was born in her and she was used to likeminded people and could play them at their own game.

Draco might have been caught unawares by his girlfriend’s revelation, but save the tiny spot of pink on his pale cheeks and the anxious flash of his eyes towards her, he certainly didn’t show it, in fact if anything Hermione noticed a flash of relief cross his face. Perhaps relieved at the fact it was Astoria who had mentioned the subject first, so he hadn’t had to.

Draco looked at the other three people in the room, just like Hermione, and also in a remarkably short space of time, Astoria too seemed to have developed an easy rapport with his father.

He wasn’t sure how he had intended broaching this sensitive and rather private subject with either his father or Hermione, now he didn’t have to, the ground had been pulled from under his feet, and he was well and truly in the deep end. But glancing nervously between both his father and Hermione, and then at his girlfriend, no one seemed to have any issues with the _subject_ being out in the open. Whatever conversation had transpired before his arrival it had simply paved the way.

His father was right, there was something to be said for being surrounded by smart, strong women, who were more often than not right.

 


	111. A Fleeting Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my friends I thought I should let you have a little New Year Chapter in advance.
> 
> As always thank you for your lovely comments, you really are tooooooo kind :-). As ever my sincere apologies for any errors glaring or otherwise... and just enjoy...

 

Despite a certain air of déjà vu, there was also something very different this time, about Hermione’s arrival at the Ministry of Magic with Lucius. Admittedly it was much later in the morning, instead of arriving for work and scurrying to their offices, witches and wizards were congregating about the black marble halls, meeting for lunch or just taking a mid-day break. Whether it was because things had changed in her own life or because some people now viewed Lucius differently she wasn’t sure. Their presence together of course, still raised the odd eyebrow from some, encountered a disapproving stare or caught a curious glance from others but on the whole, no one really paid them much attention at all. Fortunately, on this occasion, as they made their way across the foyer to the lifts, they did not encounter an angry Ronald Weasley, in fact they didn’t encounter anyone.

Hermione leaned forward, pressing the button for the second level of the Ministry, casting a quick glance at the man at her side. He looked supremely arrogant and equally as elegant, just as he always did amidst those famed marbles walls. Hermione however couldn’t suppress a rather rueful smile. 

“Lucius Malfoy visiting The Department of Magical Law Enforcement…. willingly.” She said quietly, her own tone a little scornful as she teased him, squeezing his arm with that reassuring affection all of her own.

That rueful smile of hers and playful words, were met with an equally teasing sneer, his nostrils flaring and the usual raised brow.

“Hmm, I am not sure that is exactly the word I would have chosen; however, I find saying no to the Ministry’s Head of Wizard Welfare and Rehabilitation, practically impossible.”

His gloved hand came to cover hers, returning the affectionate squeeze. Even if they had no idea what the Minister Of Magic wanted to discuss with them, he felt a lot more relaxed about lunch with Kingsley Shacklebolt than he had a probing interview with Rita Skeeter, the encounter still making his flesh crawl.

“That’s what I like to hear Mister Malfoy.” The twinkle in her brown eyes took on a more mischievous inflection, one which was returned by the Dark Wizard.

“I am not sure Harry will be here.” She said returning to actual subject in hand.

“But I can leave him a note, instead of sending him an owl. We have time to pop by.”

Lucius was still getting his head around the “we” part, and the way Hermione used it now. Now that Draco and Astoria knew about his personal relationship with Hermione, now that they had confessed their own feelings to each other, and now that Hermione was going to stay at the Manor, everything seemed somehow official. There were no plans for any more front page news headlines, but these things had a habit of getting out, especially if Rita Skeeter had anything to do with it, for the time being however their involvement was to remain firmly behind the well protected walls of Malfoy Manor.

 

Hermione knocked politely on the solid door to Harry’s office, it slowly began to open before her and she poked her head arounds its retreating weight.

“Hey you, is this ok are you busy?” She asked smiling broadly at her old friend as he rose from behind a pile of books on his desk.

“Hermione, of course. I am ever too busy for you?”

He rose quickly from his chair, moving to greet his old school friend, catching sight of Lucius Malfoy a short distance behind her, he exchanged an inquiring glance with Hermione, but the presence of the dark wizard did not diminish his warm welcome for her, nor did it prevent their usual warm hug. Taking a step back, but with an arm still caught around the young witch, he extended his hand to Lucius.

“Mister Malfoy, how are you?”

Lucius respectfully removed his leather glove, taking Harry’s smaller hand in his own and shaking it firmly.

“I am very well thank you.”

Hermione couldn’t help but notice his smile was a little nervous, she wasn’t sure if it was meeting Harry again or the fact he was in an Aurors office.

“I had offered to wait in Hermione’s office whilst she came to see you, but arguing with her is not a good option.”

There was an odd little moment of shared knowing between Harry and Lucius Malfoy. The former Death Eater wondered if perhaps his innocent remark had shared too much with the man who probably knew her better than anyone else. Oddly, but to his delight and his amazement, the young man, who had caused so much trouble in his former life, laughed, genuinely laughed. It wasn’t polite mirth, but open amusement.

“I’d rather fight Dark Wizards than argue with Hermione.”

Harry realised what he had said and to whom he was talking.

“No offence” He met Lucius Malfoy’s penetrating grey eyes, looking a little sheepish as he apologised for his slip of the tongue.

This time it was Lucius who laughed, perhaps not quite as heartily as the younger man, but with genuine amusement.

“None taken Mister Potter, in fact Hermione was just mocking me as we got into the lift, about my being in the offices of Magical Law Enforcement…. willingly…... was her choice of words.”

There was another of those shared moments between Harry and Lucius, both men glancing at Hermione who was doing her best to look totally innocent of any accusations.

Those odd little inflections the younger wizard had noticed in his friend’s voice at the weekend had today, with the presence of Lucius Malfoy, drifted into something else. He didn’t miss the twinkling smiles that passed between them, or their easy manner they shared. She had told Ron at the weekend that Lucius and Draco were now her friends, but her friendship with the older of the two Malfoy’s at least, from what he could see, seemed somehow different. It wasn’t even like the friendship they shared, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Perhaps it had something to do with the work she did, the things they’d had to share, from what little he knew or understood about her work, he realised that it would change the dynamics or any friendship; yes that must be it.   

“What brings you to the Ministry today Hermione?”

“Well I do work here Harry.”

Despite her words, Harry could tell by her sarcastic tone that she was teasing him now, a teasing he was only too happy to return.

“Oh of course I remember now, not skiving in Azkaban this week then?”

Strangely even as an Auror and with a Dark Wizard in the room, Harry was conscious of his words to Hermione, but her noticed Lucius Malfoy took no notice of his reference to the prison he had once been incarcerated in. He also noticed the, dare he say, warm smile, that crossed his face as Hermione wrinkled her nose at his leg-pulling.

“As you well know Harry Potter I am still working with Lucius and staying at the Manor.”

It still felt rather strange hearing her address Draco’s father as Lucius, and even more odd at how she referred to Malfoy Manor after everything that she had suffered there. He felt a sudden rush of pride for his long-time friend. After the war, she had talked of turning her back on the wizarding world, and now here she was taking it by the scruff of the neck and almost turning it on its end, with her courage, her determination and her foresight, not to mention her aptitude.

 “Which brings me on to the reason why I am in your office at least, I got your owl yesterday and if nothing has changed, then lunch on Wednesday is fine.”

Harry was brought firmly back into the room with her brisk and efficient tone.

He nodded, a little like Lucius Malfoy, he wasn’t going to argue with her, even if anything had changed, which fortunately it hadn’t.

“Are you still okay to come to the Manor?”

There it was again, Harry began to get a little annoyed with himself that he couldn’t put his finger on what **_it_** was. Maybe Wednesday would bring him his answer.

“Yes, no problem at all, nothing has changed, and it would be nice to get out for lunch.” He almost said, even if it is Malfoy manor, but stopped himself just in time.

“Excellent. Which brings me on to the reason why I am here at the Ministry.”

Hermione was in full efficient work mode now. No one could say Harry wasn’t dedicated to his job, but his brain did not work in the same well organised business-like way Hermione’s did. Hearing her adopt the tone he had known since childhood, brought a warm smile of its own to his lips.

“I got an owl from Kingsley yesterday too.”

She noticed Harry’s brows rise behind his round glasses.

“He invited Lucius and I for lunch.”

There was that tone again.

The brows remained raised, she didn’t elaborate on the fact he wanted the details of their interview with Rita Skeeter or that he had something he wanted to discuss with them. The raised brows being replaced by a rather quizzical look which now appeared on Harry’s face, one that Hermione didn’t miss.

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing honestly, I might have got my days mixed up, you know me and interdepartmental memos, but I could have sworn that the head of MACUSA is visiting for a few days this week, and I thought her visit started today.”

This was just typical of Harry, he was totally unfazed, by the arrival of such prestigious dignitary visiting the Ministry, Hermione couldn’t believe that Harry didn’t know all the details, and that he passed it off so nonchalantly.

“HARRY!” She all but shrieked at him, causing him to jump a little.

“What? I am not much better than you, I am not always here, and if I am, as you can see I am buried under a pile of books and papers, unless it involves me directly these things kind of pass me by.”

“HARRY!” This time the shriek of disbelief was even louder.

“These things!” Her tone was steeped in utter disbelief. 

“Sorry.” He said somewhat guiltily.

He did get Hermione’s point or rather her shriek. The visiting Head of the Magical Congress of the USA, these things? But her visit really didn’t involve him, well not directly, he was certain that at some point Kingsley would stop by with her, but it wasn’t an official appointment on the Wizarding Calendar.

“I am sure it’s probably later in the week.” He offered even more sheepishly, finding himself glancing at Lucius Malfoy, almost looking for an ally.

Clearly the importance of the visit, whatever the reason, was not lost on the tall blonde man whose presence, still now, dominated even his large office, his reaction however was thankfully more contained than Hermione’s, his reasoning more logical.

“The Minister said his diary was clear today Hermione, I am sure a visit from the head of MACUSA would hardly have slipped even Kinsley’s mind. As Mister Potter says, it is more than likely later in the week.”

Hermione viewed both men sceptically, feeling a little as if she were being ganged up on, but in truth she knew exactly what Harry was like, she often applied one of her mother’s favourite sayings to her best friend, he would forget his own head if it wasn’t screwed on. She had to admit he had got worse as they had gotten older, it really wasn’t even so much that he forgot them, just to Harry some things really weren’t that important. She wasn’t sure she could really apply that logic to the Head of MACUSA, but then as he said if it didn’t directly involve him, it just passed him right by, whomever it was.

Hermione also knew that Lucius was right, Kingsley could be a little forgetful from time to time, but that was because he had so much going on in that brain of his. But he would hardly have forgotten a meeting with the head of MACUSA, especially as he had only seen with her the previous week.

Harry was improbably grateful for Lucius Malfoy’s rational intervention, although glancing at Hermione, she didn’t look entirely convinced or particularly pleased with either of them, like it was somehow their fault. What didn’t go unnoticed by the younger man, was how Lucius Malfoy spoke to her, clearly Hermione and the older of the two Malfoy’s had developed quite a strong bond whilst working so closely together. It reminded him a little of the way Professor Dumbledore had once indulged and spoken to him, that paternal guidance he had inferred. Lucius Malfoy was of course old enough to be Hermione’s father, he after all had a son in their same year at Hogwarts, but his harsh and haughty aristocratic tone, whilst still clipped, was incredibly soft and placating, laced with an almost intimate indulgence.

A thought occurred to Harry, a thought he quickly brushed to one side.

 

 


	112. Madam President!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, yes I know, I am a bit late updating, I hope you will forgive me :-) SO,I wont beat around the bush, as always I apologise for any errors (especially with this chapter and past history) ... I hope you enjoy it just the same.

 

Hermione wasn’t sure if it was perhaps her over active imagination or possibly just the way she felt herself, but she got the oddest sensation when the Minister of Magic received herself and Lucius, in his enormous office. Welcoming them seemingly as a couple, rather than his employee, and what could she call Lucius? Her work colleague, consultant, he was hardly the former, the latter technically, yes but they didn’t seem to fit the bill. They certainly weren’t any of the titles that Hermione could attribute to the Dark Wizard who stood tall and confident at her side.

“Hermione, Lucius I am so glad you could make my rather cheeky last minute invitation.”

However, Kingsley’s all-encompassing greeting became somewhat secondary, almost paling into insignificance to the fact that he himself was not alone. Harry had indeed been right, alongside the Minister of Magic was the head of MACUSA………. Seraphina Picquery.

Hermione’s widened brown eyes flitted between the stylish, statuesque, darkly beautiful woman and the familiar beaming face of her boss and friend. Nerves galloped alongside rampant curiosity. Hermione Granger had never been star struck in her entire life, but for the granddaughter of one of the most famed women in the magical world and for the most powerful and influential woman in the magical world today, she would certainly make an exception. She tried to contain her childlike awe.

“I also hope that you can forgive a little subterfuge on my part.”

Despite, Kingsley’s speaking, Hermione found herself still entranced by the woman who stood at his side, noticing an impeccably plucked brow rise at his words, and two large, almond shaped brown eyes drift slowly sidelong towards the Minister.

“Some would call it an out and out lie Kingsley.”

Her voice was as deep and warm as the Minister of Magic’s, a shade quieter and steeped in a rich Southern American accent. Hermione found it almost as entrancing as Lucius. Her words bore an amused tone, seeming to playfully admonish the Minister for his _subterfuge._ To her own amusement, Hermione noticed a little flush lace Kingsley’s dark cheeks. Her keen brown gaze once again drifting between the two powerful magical leaders. She had never seen the Mister of Magic squirm quite so visibly before. Just as Astoria had detected a little more than professional friendship between her and Lucius, Hermione sensed something similar between the two powerful leaders.

“A small distortion of the facts.” Kingsley assured everyone in his own inimitable way, all-encompassing way.

“I didn’t want you two to decline my invitation for any reason.” His own big brown eyes met Seraphina Picquery’s, that beautifully sculpted brow raised once more.

Hermione got the feeling Kingsley Shacklebolt was about to explain himself, but for fear of digging what was proving a larger hole for himself, he thought better of it.  It was Lucius who perhaps unwittingly came to his aid, although Hermione had a sneaking suspicion he too saw the growing crater.

“As if we would turn down an invitation to lunch with you Kingsley.” He flashed a gracious smile at the Minister before turning his decidedly more masculine attention to Seraphina Picquery.

“Madam President it is an honour to meet you.”

He inclined his head gallantly, his long pale hair slipping over his shoulder with the small movement. His words and action were met with equal courteousness by the Head of MACUSA, Seraphina Picquery took a confident step towards him, extending a slender bejewelled hand. Her own movement wafting a very heady and exotic perfume in her wake.

“Mister Malfoy, it is a pleasure to meet you, Kingsley has told me all about you.”

Hermione found herself biting her lip in yet further amusement, the words reminding her of Lucius’ own to her many years ago.  Although on a more serious note she couldn’t help but wonder exactly what Kingsley had told her about Lucius. Her silent question quickly answered as the older woman released Lucius’ hand, partially turning her attention to Hermione.

“How you have been assisting Miss Granger with her interesting and ground-breaking work in our community.

That slender, bejewelled hand was offered to the younger woman.

“Miss Granger, Hermione it is my honour to meet you.”

For the briefest of moments Hermione was completely overwhelmed by her words, taking the offered hand, she struggled to find her own words. Again, it was Lucius, who this time came to her rescue.

“I don’t think I can take credit for assisting, Madam President, but I am led to believe I can provide valuable insight.”

Those perfectly shaped almond eyes drifted between Lucius and Hermione, whose hand was still firmly grasped in her own.

However big the compliment was that Seraphina Picquery had paid Hermione, the young witch was not about to let Lucius diminish his own important part in her work, his self-deprecation found her voice very quickly.

“Mister Malfoy’s insight has indeed been invaluable Madam President, and I am very grateful for his _assistance_ and for allowing me into both his home and his mind to continue the advancement of my work.”

A little voice in the back of Hermione’s head added and into his heart, she felt a small flush of heat sting her cheeks.

Seraphina Picquery nodded sagely, the jewels on the headdress she wore sparkling like those on her fingers.

“From what Kingsley has told me and MACUSA, and from what I read, I do not doubt that for one moment.”

The beautiful and powerful woman directed her words to Lucius, it was the first time Hermione had seen the Dark Wizard look remotely intimidated, except of course by herself, but that was a very different story.

 “You do yourself an injustice Mister Malfoy, but your humility does you credit.”

Her soft Southern drawl was reassuring, but did not detract from the authority of her words.

“We should not however allow the bad things we may have done in the past tarnish the good things we do in the future.”

Lucius tried to contain the wry smile which threatened to curve his lips, it was not that he didn’t appreciate the shrewd words of such an intelligent and influential woman, it was more to do with the similarity to those which Hermione was often brandishing at him. He didn’t dare cast a glance in Hermione’s direction, he could feel the _what am I always telling you,_ look on her face. The happiness he felt at the moment however, seemed to spill over and the smile did indeed curve that sensual mouth of his. He allowed it free reign, once again inclining his head, this time in deference to both the President and to Hermione. His tone incredibly respectful, if humorously resigned.

“So I am told Madam President.” His sparkling silver-grey eyes falling upon Hermione.

The focus having shifted momentarily to Lucius had put Hermione at her ease, no longer feeling over awed at the presence of the Seraphina Picquery. She was about to respond but the older woman was one step ahead of her.

“Then you should take heed Mister Malfoy, two smart women are seldom wrong.”

The sharp retort was delivered wittily and was coddled by that warm accent, her own eyes fleeting to Kingsley, who was clearly amused by the exchange going on, but perhaps wisely, remained silent.

Lucius did not need to be reminded about smart women, they seemed to be following him around at the present. Yesterday he’d had to contend with Hermione and Astoria, today Hermione was equally on form, her partner in verbal crime a little more formidable this time around. However, despite the position of power that she held, the head of MACUSA seemed very much on a par with their own Minister of Magic, she certainly shared his colourful flare and way with words, and was equally as forthright, having no compunction in letting Lucius know she was more than aware of his past.

For the first time, although still deeply ashamed of many of the things he had done, Lucius Malfoy did not mind someone alluding to it, mentioning it even. He was also more than happy to admit that they were indeed quite right.

“I have been foolish in the past and in many ways still am Madam President, something which I will now freely admit, but even I am not stupid enough to argue with two such incredibly smart women.”

 

Just as before, lunch had been served in the private dining room adjacent to Kingsley Shacklebolt’s office, despite being in the presence of the two most powerful magical leaders in the world, it was surprisingly relaxed and informal, Kingsley finally got his blow by blow account of the meeting with the odious Rita Skeeter, his bright white smiling getting bigger and bigger with each word. Helped along with some graphic descriptions and some wonderful facial expressions. The best one of course coming from Lucius, who refused to be drawn into the recounting of his flirtation with the Daily Prophet reporter.

“Let us just say it seemed like a good idea at the time.” He shook his blonde head, repulsion sitting on his face as he, dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

“You two make an interesting couple, or perhaps team might be more appropriate.”

Observed the older woman, her big almond eyes sparkling with amusement, and quite possibly a little intuition.

“And you really are quite the shining example, showing how you can put your past differences aside and work together in this way.”

Hermione felt that familiar flush begin to rise through her body, and that familiar split in her brain. The two melding together in heat, being called a couple by the head of MACUSA was one thing, it was however just a word, and also her compliment of how well they worked together, that wasn’t _just_ anything, it was a testament to Hermione’s professionalism and how good she was at what she did. 

She avoided looking at Lucius, feeling she might give away more than she intended at the pride she felt in him. Through the mist of praise, Hermione noticed an exchange of looks between the two Magical leaders, she knew Kingsley Shacklebolt too well, they had shared a conspiratorial look from time to time themselves, and this was definitely one of those looks, if a little more personal. She got the feeling she was missing something.

“Which I suppose brings us around to Kingsley’s subterfuge as he calls it.”

The elegant older woman steepled two of her ringed fingers against her subtly painted lips. Her keen brown gaze shifting sharply from her English counterpart and between the two other people seated at the large table.

“I really should not have _told him off_ about it, as I suppose technically it was my idea, suggestion at least. Kingsley felt you might be a little reticent to join us both.”

This time it was Hermione’s gaze which shifted amongst the others in the room, instantly it went to Lucius, he looked far from reticent, in fact he looked as intrigued as Hermione, if a little more restrained. Her brown eyes moved to the Minister of Magic, who remained unusually silent, finally returning to the woman who held the floor.

Hermione had known Kingsley Shacklebolt a long time, they been through a lot together. She could hardly say in the last few months they had worked together, because mostly her work kept her from the Ministry itself, however on the occasions when she had been here, that she had seen Kingsley and they had indeed _worked_ together, or perhaps conspired together might be a better way of putting it, Hermione had also gotten to know how the colourful Minister of Magic thought.  He too had had a hand in “playing” Lucius, when it came to inciting him to work with Hermione, from that she knew it was actually Lucius whom Kingsley Shacklebolt felt might be hesitant to join himself and the head of MACUSA, he would know without question, Hermione would have no such reservations. Her keen brain continued to whir ahead of the conversation. Even if Lucius did have any fears, about meeting this woman in her official capacity, this was just lunch, but then Hermione, remembered the “Something” else Kingsley wanted to discuss, despite his written reassurance she couldn’t help the sudden chill of apprehension which crept up her spine.

Hermione found herself under the dark scrutiny of Seraphina Picquery’s eyes, they sparkled brightly, her lips curving in a knowing smile. Whilst Lucius might have been able to read her thoughts simply from knowing her as he did, Hermione realised a little to her horror that the current Head of MACUSA was indeed a Legilimens.  Heat flooded her face and her body, not at the thoughts she just had, but at the ones which had been racing around in her mind for the duration of lunch. She swallowed hard, trying to block and focus her thoughts.  She noticed the older woman’s lips curve all the more.

“By nature, like my grandmother, I am blunt speaking woman, I see little point in being anything else. Whilst he was visiting us last week, Kingsley sang you praises no end, also saying how valuable he thought the work you were doing was, and would prove in the future. I did not comprehend fully the nature of your work, and was assured that was quite a normal reaction. What you do isn’t something previously recognised in our world.”

Trying to block where her thoughts were naturally going, and wanting to respond honestly to this woman was proving a little difficult, even for Hermione. She nodded, keeping her response brief.

“Kingsley is very kind and has been very supportive. What I do isn’t always easy to understand and is not always welcomed in our word.”

“Whether we like it or not change is inevitable, we must move with the times, or at least keep up with them.” The older woman assured Hermione.

Her sparkling eyes and large smile deferred to Kingsley Shacklebolt, that sense of playful amusement once more flickering across her features.

“I also do not like that the Ministry of Magic is one step ahead of MACUSA.”

“I shared with you.” Kingsley offered in his defence, that little flush evident on his dark cheeks once more.

“Eventually.”  Came the response, the word enunciated in the slow Southern drawl.

Hermione was certain the exchange between the two was friendly enough, but her natural instinct to defend her friends and her work rose the fore.

“I am sure the Minister wanted to ensure that what I did was something worth sharing, and would be as valuable to our world as I had assured him.”

The older woman nodded her head, the action once again making the tiny gems on her headdress move and twinkle.

“Loyalty is a characteristic I greatly admire Hermione. I know you have an illustrious past, I see an equally illustrious future ahead of you.”

The words of praise were again a little overawing for Hermione, but this time her mind remained clear. All of this was very nice, and had to be leading somewhere. Hermione just couldn’t see where at the moment.

“Hermione, I would like you to come to the United States, explain more fully to the Congress details of your work, what it is you do and how it works. How it will benefit our world.”

As the enormity of Seraphina Picquery’s words sank in, a plethora of questions tumbled after them. Even without daring to look in Lucius’ direction Hermione, could feel the emotions emanating from him, she didn’t need legilimency to know that he was both delighted for her and despondent at the same time.  Hermione immediately blocked her own thoughts, thinking only of the offer extended to her. She saw that twinkle in those big almond eyes, and a look very similar to the one which had flittered across Astoria Greengrass’s face the previous day, the head of MACUSA turned her attention to Lucius, and Hermione saw a look very similar to one she often noticed on Kingsley Shacklebolt’s face.

“Mister Malfoy, I appreciate that you have a son, and I am certain commitments here, but would it be too much of an imposition for you to accompany Miss Grainger? I want Congress to understand fully how this works, and from a layperson’s perspective, I feel that would be better served if you were there to.”

Most of the pieces of the puzzle dropped into place. Why Kingsley had wanted them both there, why he felt there might be some reticence. The request also clarified why for the most part of this conversation the Minister of Magic had remained silent. He clearly did not want to influence anyone, but by the same token, a request directly from this woman, would be much more difficult to refuse.

Hermione was still dumfounded by the request, the questions piling up rapidly in her head. She heard Lucius’ clipped tones, filter into the air, his voice as strong and assertive as it always was.

“Madam President, I am flattered by your request, especially in light of everything. I am not entirely sure of what assistance I can be to Hermione; however, I am of course at yours and her disposal.”

Of course Lucius wanted to get back into the Ministry’s good books, they had talked about it openly, even with Kingsley, but in truth it was Lucius who had the bigger decision to make. Hermione had no idea how long this visit would be, but it would mean leaving Draco, the son he was rebuilding his relationship with. It might also prove harder on him that he realised, awkward questions that might stir old memories, things he wasn’t ready to talk about with strangers or in public.

For her, well her friends had they own lives now, they would still be here when she got back, as would her job, this was a huge opportunity for her. She tried to obstruct any more personal thoughts from entering her mind at this point, but one kept fighting its way through. Being with Lucius would be a lot easier on the other side of the magical world, no matter how short or long the trip.  Her response to Seraphina Picquery was typical Hermione, measured and thoughtful.

“Madam President, I am honoured by your request and like Mister Malfoy flattered.”

She shifted her grateful smile to the Minister of Magic.

“I am certain that you had a hand in this Kingsley, and I am as always so indebted for you unwavering support….”

“It sounds like there is going to be a but.” The Minister ventured in his deep, gentle tones.

Hermione smiled nodding her head, just as she knew the Minister, he knew her.

“There is.”

The two Magical leaders nodded their heads in unison.

Hermione fought to keep her mind closed, and professional. She needed to speak to Lucius but did not want to put him on the spot now, she needed him to understand the implications of what he was agreeing to. However great an opportunity this was for her professionally, in the last few days things had changed drastically for her, discussing that with Lucius in front of the Minister of Magic and head of MACUSA was not an option.  She chose her words very carefully, not wanting to upset _anyone._

 _“_ I really am totally overwhelmed by your request Madam President and would just like to ….” Choosing her words carefully was not as easy as she’d hoped.

Seraphina Picquery’s legilimency thankfully came to her rescue. Her ringed hands coming into the air.

“Hermione, I do not expect an answer this second, I appreciate that you too have commitments here to, not least your work and the people you are currently helping or working with.”

There was another of _those looks_ exchanged between she and the Minister, who now spoke,

“Hermione, you of course have my blessing and backing whatever your decision. Lucius whilst you need neither from me, I would be very grateful if Hermione did take this opportunity, that you were with her.”

The dark wizard again nodded his affirmation, this time to the Minister.

“Thank you.” He said honestly.

“It’s my 50th birthday next week.” Kingsley added suddenly.

Lucius and Hermione both exchanged surprised glances.

“I wasn’t going to do anything, it’s not something you want to celebrate, getting so old.” His jovial face beamed even more his dark brown eyes twinkling mischievously,  

“But with such a distinguished visitor here, I though perhaps I might throw a party, next weekend. Of course, the Aurora Imperial can fit the Minister of Magic in at short notice, being Minister has to have some perks.”

He puffed his chest importantly, his bright white grin splitting his face in half.

Why don’t we meet for drinks beforehand and you can let us know your decision?”

It was an excellent suggestion on the Minister’s part, but at the mention of the swanky London hotel, Hermione found her mind wandering, her eyes drifting to Lucius. Her eyeline wasn’t missed by the Minister, and her thoughts certainly didn’t go unread by his glamourous counterpart. Keeping her changed relationship with Lucius a secret was proving a lot more difficult than she had imagined, but at least Harry didn’t know, she could tell him and her friends in her own time and her own way, couldn’t she?

 


	113. A Sense of Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincere apologies my faithful readers, I have a problem with my elbow, which makes typing however small agonisingly painful, so I haven't been able to do much at all. This chapter comes to you with the aid of pain killers and ice. Apologies for any errors etc they could be down to any one of the aforementioned, or just me :-)...but I do hope you enjoy it.

 

Draco and Astoria had remained at Malfoy Manor, anxious for news of how lunch with the Minister had gone, and of course curious to know what he wanted to discuss with them. Just as they had done the previous afternoon following lunch, the four sat in the drawing room, this time without the raging storm going on outside the long glazed windows.

For the first time in a very long time Hermione, felt surrounded by a sense of family. Oh, she always felt more than welcome at the Weasley’s and was off course made to feel part of their family, but even when she and Ron were together, she was always felt like a visitor. Seated next to Lucius on one of the large sofa’s, his son and his girlfriend seated opposite them, she was engulfed by a sense of belonging, as if she were truly meant to be here, home. It was a very strange sensation.

Everything in this once foreboding house was now so familiar to her, well the rooms she had been in that was, she knew there was a lot of Malfoy Manor that still remained a mystery to her. It’s once feared walls now making her feel so safe and secure. It’s inhabitants having a very similar effect. The boy she had once loathed at school, who had tormented and ridiculed her, now a young man, in some ways it was hard to equate that caring person to the one she had once known, oh occasionally she saw glimpses of him, but still in a very different way. Then of course there was the Master of The House himself, Lucius Malfoy, her mind wandered, where did she even begin with him.

“You are very quiet my dear.” Lucius observed.

She looked up quickly, his silver grey eyes, two of six firmly fixed on her.

“Sorry, I was miles away, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

“You weren’t.” Lucius assured her quietly.

“You once offered me sickle for thoughts.” He went on with a gentle smile.

He noticed a small flush on Hermione’s cheeks, wondering whether perhaps the thought was private, and she did not feel comfortable sharing it.

She nudged him affectionately with her elbow, one of those gentle reassuring touches he had become so accustomed to, that he treasured.

Hermione was so happy that she no longer had to be on her best, _professional_ behaviour with Draco, his presence did however remind her of why she had come into this house. Not having told Lucius the absolute truth on that front still weighed on her mind, she silently promised herself she would broach the subject with both of them very soon.

“I am not sure they are worth that much.”

“I think perhaps Hermione is trying to decide which shop to visit first when she goes to New York.”

Two sets of penetrating and mystified Malfoy eyes fell upon the young witch seated next to Draco, Hermione however knew exactly what she meant, and was grateful for the diversion, she wasn’t sure her actual train of thought was one she was ready to share. Not yet anyway.

“Hmm Saks or Bloomingdales, I hear they are both fabulous.”

The vacant expression in the older and younger Malfoy’s eyes increased, amidst feminine laughter.

“Hermione hasn’t accepted the offer yet, although I have to confess I am not sure why.”

Lucius was truly perplexed why Hermione hadn’t jumped at Seraphina Picquery’s proposition, but like everything with the young woman he loved, he knew there would be a very good reason.

Again, Hermione found herself under the scrutinous gaze of the others, again she wasn’t sure this was the time to share, but then again…. She looked into Lucius’ curious, handsome face and then at his son and girlfriend, all waiting expectantly for an answer.

“Well, as Madam Picquery said, I have the people I am working here with to consider.”

“But she wants father to go with you.”

Astoria and Lucius both shot Draco a look which screamed shut up. His pale cheeks flushed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Actually, Draco wasn’t going to be put off, not by the intimidating look on his father’s face, or the fiery look he was getting from Astoria.

“Actually, yes I did.” He shrugged his narrow shoulders, not elaborating on his statement but feeling he had made his point none the less and that was enough.

Hermione smiled indulgently at him, he was quite right to voice his thoughts, and he was right in a roundabout way, this was about his father, but possibly not in the way he imagined.

“It’s alright Draco, but I do actually work with other people aside from your father you know.”

Draco flushed a little more, he had completely forgotten about the fact that Hermione did have a proper job, which involved other people, not just the Malfoy’s. This time it was he who received a less than affectionate nudge with Astoria’s sharp elbow, a sulky look flittered across his face and he shut up.

Hermione took pity on him, knowing in his own circuitous way, Draco’s heart and thoughts were in the right place.

“That said, I was actually thinking about your father and you, when I asked Madam Picquery for time to think.”

Lucius and Draco once more exchanged baffled glances, strange sounding shops in New York having nothing to do with their puzzlement.

Hermione trod very carefully, she did not want to embarrass either of them in any way nor make anyone feel that they were standing in her way. Hermione did what she always did with these two, putting the onus back on herself.

“There is a quite a lot going on here Lucius and I do not want to drag you away from that, with my work which you have been drawn into. And whilst I might be able to wangle a shopping trip or two.”

She winked at Astoria trying to keep her words light all the while ensuring that she made her point.

“It is ultimately work, and will I think be quite tough on both of us.”

She kept her words tactful and generic.

“Putting myself in those kind of situations is one thing, but I am not sure it is fair to put you in them Lucius.”

She saw the realisation of her words reflected in the depths of his grey eyes. It was however his exuberant son who responded, as was often the case, not entirely thinking before he did so and showing that rather self-centred Draco Malfoy of old.

“Well you don’t have to worry about me, Astoria will keep an eye on me. And I know Hermione is going to be looking after you father.”

The little flush was back at the implication in his words.

Lucius gaze shifted from Hermione to his rather sheepish looking son. 

Under that intense stare he was 12 years old once more, but unlike when he was 12 years old his father’s words, whilst firm, were issued with affection and warmth.

“Correct on both counts Draco, without the knowledge that I would be leaving you in Miss Greengrass’ hands I would not consider leaving the Manor. I however have a feeling that Hermione is also worried about me, and how this might affect me after everything that has happened, but as you say she is going to be _looking after me.”_

Draco’s pale cheeks, deepened in their crimson hue. Suddenly realising what Hermione meant, his father had been so different lately, so much better, he hadn’t for one moment considered, that what the head of MACUSA was asking might have a debilitating effect on him, might set back his progress.  Draco’s pale blue eyes clashed with Hermione’s chocolate brown, he saw a familiar warning in their depths. He contained his almost childish exuberance, the more adult head slipping on to his shoulders.

“Well, I am no expert but, I think this is an excellent opportunity, for both of you on all counts.”

This time it was Draco that found himself under the watchful gaze of six eyes, a little miffed that they all looked equally as surprised. He was capable of intelligent and adult observations…. sometimes.

“What! Well it is, I might not put this as well as you would father but, it’s a great career opportunity for Hermione, representing the Ministry of Magic before MACUSA and it wont do…….”

His voice trailed off, being scrappy with his words was one thing, being rude was another.

“And it won’t do me any harm either…...” Lucius supplied for his struggling offspring.

Draco nodded.

This time it was Hermione who responded to the younger blonde.

“In terms of standing, no it won’t Draco, that your father has been asked is something in itself. But…”

She looked at Lucius, she saw nothing in his face but love and utter confidence in her.

“But talking to you and me about the past is one thing, standing up in front of a group of strangers, Congress no less, is very different. My primary thoughts are for your father, not my career advancement.”

She didn’t want her words to Draco to sound harsh, but she did want him to understand both how important his father was to her, more so than her work and off course more importantly how it might affect him which would of course affect them all.

“I have no doubt whatsoever that your first thoughts were for me Hermione, you have demonstrated that many times over the last few weeks. Being the Head of MACUSA or Minister of Magic is hardly likely to excuse them.”

Hermione’s own face flushed at Lucius words, nope she certainly wouldn’t let a little thing like that put her off. Lucius looked at her, and took her slender hand in his, forgetting the presence of his son and Astoria, he addressed her alone.

“I want you to do this Hermione, you deserve to do it. And I want to do it, I have no concerns with you at my side. Not about anything.” He added in hushed tones.

“Whether I am so very different I don’t know, but I feel different. You have done so much for me, if I can return that in some way, then I am only too pleased to do so.”

He saw her eyes sparkle with happiness and with unshed tears, he knew she would not thank him for them falling in front of his son. He squeezed her hand tightly.

“And of course, as Draco was about to put it, it won’t do me any harm…. or him come to that.”

Draco had slipped his arm around Astoria, there was that warm sense of family in the room once more, neither his son nor the young woman at his side, taking a bit of notice at Lucius’ actions or declarations. It all seemed to easy and so normal. Things had certainly changed a great deal in this once dark, extremely foreboding house.

She smiled at them all gratefully, fearing the tears might still fall, she stuck with Lucius’ lighter note.

“And of course, if the visit is longer than we expect, you and Astoria could come for a visit, and we could hit those shops.”

One set of exotic brown eyes sparkled joyfully, two sets of Malfoy eyes rolled ceiling wards.

 

 

“Are you really sure about this Lucius?” Hermione asked him later as she snuggled up against him in his huge bed.

“I didn’t want to put you on the spot earlier, but Draco was a little persistent.”

She felt the rumble of his laughter against her warm cheek as her head rested against his chest.

“Tact was never really his forte. But I am glad he said what he did, in his own way of course. Before I might have been worried that this wasn’t a good time to be away, I would certainly have doubted myself but somehow now it seems like perfect timing.”

“How so?” She asked looking up into to his face, the light from the fire casting shadows across his perfectly etched features, highlighting the small smile which danced on his lips, but the seriousness in his beautiful grey eyes.

“Draco, I am sure will enjoy playing, Lord of the Manor to Astoria and his friends.” His raised a blonde brow at the thought.

Hermione chuckled, doubting Lucius was wrong there.

“But seriously, it will give them time alone, maybe play house, it will be good for him. And you and I too, being together in such a public forum, it might give people a chance to get used to us together.”

Hermione loved to hear him speak with the confidence he once had, the confidence which had been lacking so much in recent months. That little thrill danced up her spine and burnt low in her belly when she thought of the man of old. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help it, especially not now.

“We cannot stay locked up here in our own little world forever. And I can test my wings.”

Hermione crooked her head, he was of course right once more, they couldn’t stay at Malfoy Manor forever, although it did seem like a lovely idea, but she wasn’t sure what he meant about testing his wings.

“You said it yourself talking to strangers, to Congress is very different from talking to you or Draco, even to Kingsley or Salazar forbid, Rita Skeeter, but if I can do that, I can do anything.”

“Lucius please do not push yourself, there really is no need, we can stay here at the Manor for a little while at least, we don’t have to….”

“Are you ashamed of me Hermione of our relationship?” His voice was gentle, there was no malice intended and in all honesty, he knew the answer before she spoke. Even in the dim light of his bedroom, his saw that familiar fiery flicker in her brown eyes.

Hermione was horrified that he would think such a thing, even in passing. Her hand had been resting against the soft downy hair on his broad chest, it moved to caress his face.

“Of course not Lucius, not in any way. It is just…”

Despite their totally honest relationship, Hermione still at times protected Lucius, from himself. She wasn’t entirely sure he had come terms with the fact that there had been something so very wrong, that it was still there, that it wouldn’t just go away, there would be triggers or even simply bad days. Her brain raced to find the right words.

“Sometimes we try and do too much at once, thinking that everything is fine. You have been ridiculed and lambasted in the past, not always justifiably so. People would say cruel things and I couldn’t bare you to be hurt any more, not because of me.”

He pulled her across his hard body, holding her tightly against him. As he looked into those beautiful brown eyes, that sweet honest face, he still felt she was a beautiful dream, before some awful nightmare took over his mind once more. He stroked her hair, his finger brushing her cheek, reassuring himself the soft warm flesh against his own was very real.

“Hermione Granger, the man I am now is very much down to you, is because of you, and because of you, no one can hurt me. If they do, I know you will be there to fight them off and to make it better. I am proud to have you at my side, to be with you. Those people that say cruel and hurtful things about me, they don’t matter, not any more. But my worry is of course the same, that you will be tarnished by me, and those same people will say even more cruel hurtful things to you.”

She moved against the body she knew so well, relishing its warmth against her own, its comforting hard lines.

“Perhaps quite ironically.” Her gentle smile was accompanied by a playful screwed up nose.

“Outside of these four walls, there are very few people’s whose opinions I worry about, that I pay any heed to. Quite possibly only one really, and even his, whilst it might hurt, it would not make me change my mind or could make me change the way I feel about you Lucius Malfoy.”

The blonde wizard continued to gently stroke her face. His intense silver blue gaze holding hers.

“Well Mister Potter is coming for lunch the day after tomorrow, perhaps, you should simply tell him”.

Hermione snuggled tighter against the man she loved, knowing of course without a shadow of a doubt he was right.


	114. A Very Long Lunch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, thanks for hanging in there with me. Am still really struggling to write for any length of time, so updates are a bit slow. I hope you will forgive me. Apologies as always for any faux pas etc. Enjoy...please review, at the moment they really keep me going and encourage me to work through the pain.

 

Hermione couldn’t remember ever feeling this nervous in her life before, her first day at Hogwarts had been filled with unbridled excitement, there was an anxious moment when Professor McGonagall had placed the sorting hat on her head, but it was nothing compared to this. She had ridden dragons, stolen into Gringotts bank disguised at Bellatrix Lestrange, been held at wandpoint by Death Eaters, chased by Lord Voldemort’s hideous snake, manhandled by giants, faced trolls and the equally horrible Dolores Umbridge. She’d stood up to Professor Snape and off course to Lucius Malfoy, the list was seemingly endless, but still none of those things seemed to compare to the anxiety she felt right now as she waited for her oldest friend to arrive at Malfoy Manor.

Draco had wanted to hang around and see “Potter back at the Manor” but he was duly banished by his father, telling him today was not a Hogwarts reunion. Even Draco could see signs of the formidable father he had once known shining though, and not prepared to argue, he had grudgingly left with Astoria. Hermione had to admit his rather sulky attitude and almost flouncing, not flooing off had eased her nerves and she perhaps a little uncertainly assured him she was sure there would be another time.

“I too will make myself scarce once Mister Potter arrives.”

“But Lucius this is….”

He knew exactly where Hermione’s protestations were going, but he wasn’t having it.

“As you were about to say my dear, this is my house, but I like to think that you share my home now.”  
His words were firm and forthright as was his soft tone. He loved the gentle flush which coloured her cheeks and the twinkle in her eyes. A strange sensation ebbed through his veins, Lucius felt like a different man, so much had changed in his life, all of it for the better, but a part of him felt like his old self, it was difficult to understand but it still felt as if it was in a good way.

“Mister Potter is your friend and your guest. He assured Hermione his strong fingers biting into the softness of her sweater.

“He is not expecting to have lunch with me, but his old friend. If you like I will join you for coffee, sorry tea afterwards. But if you need me I will be here.”

He kissed Hermione with his own reassurance, her arms drifting around him tightly.

“Harry Potter isn’t as daunting as Congress.” Lucius whispered against her ear before standing back and looking at her.

A smile floated across Hermione’s gently glossed lips, having her own words thrown back at her soothed her anxiety even more, again the Dark Wizard was right Harry was her friend, if she couldn’t talk to him, there wasn’t much hope for anyone else.

The powerful wards around the manor heralded the young wizard’s arrival, with a final brief, very tight embrace, Hermione left Lucius and went to welcome her friend.

She flicked open the heavy wrought iron gates at the end of the gravelled driveway with a wave of her wand.

Harry remembered those high yew hedges on either side of him from the last time he had been here, dragged by seekers, along with Hermione and Ron. Then it had been dark, and he had not known what lie ahead. Today white peacocks wandered on the neatly manicured lawns, weak spring sunshine peaked from behind fluffy white clouds and a beaming Hermione came this time from the opposite direction, almost unbelievably from the house to greet him. How easily she had dealt with the wards and the gates did not go unnoticed, neither did the spring she had in her step.

“Harry!”

He was immediately enveloped in her usual warm hug.

“I am so pleased you are here.”

He returned her hug with equal warmth.

“I have to say it’s all a bit surreal.”

Hermione released him and moved to his side as they strolled up the gravelled driveway.

“I know what you mean, the first time I came back here I was terrified. I wasn’t even sure if I could come back here.”

She glanced sidelong at her old friend, watching for any reaction. He seemed too busy looking around, taking in the immaculate gardens, the strutting white birds and the imposing house itself.

Harry’s eyes met hers.

“When you invited me, after I got over the shock of that, I have to say I felt exactly the same, but then I thought well if you could do it, so could I. Maybe it’s because we are older, things have changed so much, perhaps it’s the daylight or because you are here, but it all seems so very different now, like a different house even.”

Hermione gave a small laugh at her friend’s observation, she of course felt the same way, but she had very different reasons to.

“I think it’s all of those things Harry, obviously for me I’ve been working here for a while as well, and of course I’ve gotten to know Lucius and Draco a lot better.”

She dropped the small inference into her words, perhaps the odd subtlety would help her tell Harry, maybe steer him gently in the right direction.

“A lot better it would seem.”

Well there was no subtlety in Harry’s comment, perhaps her old schoolfriend was a lot more astute than she gave him credit for. She gave him a quizzical look not wanting to tip her hand too soon.

“Just saying.”

He said in that frustratingly non-committal way of his.

Hermione raised a brow at him, always a sign for him to go on or else.

“Well I mean the way you open the gates, that Lucius Malfoy is happy for you to have guests like me for lunch and of course that you’ve had a couple of meetings with him for the Ministry.”

“Oh right, yes of course.”

Hermione was oddly a little disappointed that Harry hadn’t read more into it than just that. Although that was probably enough to be going on with.

“You were also right about Seraphina Picquery, but you knew that.” She chided, grasping his arm a little tighter as they reached the front door.

The door opened for her, and Harry flashed her a sidelong glance, opening the gates was one thing, the way the door wards were tuned to her was much more. He knew she had been working here, but she must have really earned Lucius and Draco Malfoy’s trust to be able to come and go like this. There was no way Malfoy Manor would not be warded to the hilt.

“Yeah.” He responded rather vacantly to her statement as they entered the house, his bespectacled eyes taking in the enormous hallway, this time in proper daylight.

Years, age, circumstances and decent light had certainly changed Harry’s remembrance of this old house. It really was almost like a different place entirely, nothing, thankfully seemed to remind him of that awful night during the second wizarding war.

“Sorry, well you know what I am like Hermione, someone only has to throw a seed of doubt in and I am wondering if I got it all wrong.  Did you meet her?”

His question went unanswered as the door closed behind them, quietly this time, there were no threatening sounds, no intimidation, and no fear.  The popping sound of a house elf was the only thing which reminded Harry of the past, remembering his friend Dobby who had once worked for the Malfoy’s and who had died saving him and his friends. A little spark of anger flared inside him, remembering how Lucius Malfoy had treated the hapless creature that he had cunningly freed. Reigning in his thoughts, he couldn’t help but wonder how Hermione, a notorious opposer of the use of house elves. was getting along with them being a fixture here?

“Miffy this is my friend Harry Potter.”

The small creature’s huge eyes widened from saucer size to dinner plates.

Harry smiled at the tiny elf, greeting her warmly and causing her eyes to widen so much they looked like they would pop out of her wrinkled little face.

“It is a pleasure to meet you Harry Potter.”

Harry smiled this time at his recollection of Dobby, the small elf sounding just like he had when they had first met at the Dursley’s.

Still obviously in awe of their illustrious visitor and struggling to look away, Miffy turned her face somewhat half-heartedly to a mildly amused Hermione.

“The Master said that we should ask you where you would like your lunch served. He said you might not want to eat in the dining room?”

Harry found his curiosity and his senses on even more alert. The way the house elf treated his friend and that Lucius Malfoy would pose such a question in his own home. Hermione was a visitor, a guest, but that wasn’t a feeling he was getting right now.

Hermione thought for a moment, she didn’t want to eat in the dining room, Lucius was quiet right, it was far too formal for lunch with Harry, but lunch in the kitchen, well that seemed a little rude, invite a friend to lunch and expect them to eat in the kitchen. But then again, the kitchen was cosy and informal, it was also the kitchen at Malfoy Manor and the size of the Gryffindor common room. Asking Harry would be the polite thing to do.

“Well I often have my lunch in the kitchen, much to Miffy’s disgust.” She gave the wide-eyed elf a smile, it was nervously returned with some tunic tugging.

Harry looked at the two guessing that the kitchen at Malfoy Manor wasn’t a small dirty room, steeped in peelings, rotting food and dirty servants.

“I don’t mind where we eat as long as we do, I had an early meeting this morning and missed breakfast, bit like Ron, I am starving.”

“I am sure that we can help with that Mister Potter.”

The aristocratic sound of Lucius Malfoy’s voice filled the hallway, along with the popping sound of Miffy vanishing. Some things didn’t change thought Harry.

Harry felt something brush by his leg, and as well as the daunting figure of the lord of the manor, he was confronted by two enormous hounds, both trying hard to contain their excitement at Hermione’s presence. All the years he’d known Hermione she’d had a cat, he’d never taken her for a dog person, but these two beautiful animals obviously adored her, not taking any notice of Lucius’ attempts to pacify them.

“Kauno, Isa enough, it isn’t like you haven’t seen Hermione today.” He admonished, almost conversationally with them.

It reminded him of how he used to talk to Hedwig, watching a little in amazement as Hermione crouched down to them, talking and soothing them until their excitement abated. Clearly his old friend had made friends and won everyone over in this house.

“My apologies Mister Potter, they heard Hermione’s voice, I think they were hoping that she would be accompanying us on our walk.”

Lucius extended his hand to Harry in a gesture of welcome.

“Mister Malfoy.” Harry acknowledged, returning his firm shake.

Both men turned to Hermione who was amusingly apologising to the two now rather sad looking dogs that she wasn’t coming for a walk, and that they would have to make do with Lucius.

It was another little thing which seeped into Harry’s subconscious along with Lucius’ words as he called the dogs to him and left the manor.

“Kauno, Isa come. I will see you later my dear.”

Hermione’s brown eyes met Lucius Malfoy’s, she smiled warmly and nodded. As the door closed behind the Dark Wizard and his dogs, those same brown met Harry’s startled and curious blue.

“What?” She asked, knowing really full well what, but just waiting for Harry to say something.

“Hermione… it’s not my imagination, is it?”

“What is?”. She asked again, feigning innocence.

“Hermione!” Harry said again, a different tone in his voice.

She’d hoped, even with her subtle hints, that this would wait until after lunch, at least until they’d had a chance for some chit chat, to catch up a bit. She tried to steer Harry in the direction of the kitchen.

“I thought you were starving.” She said.

“Yeah I am.” He responded that very distracted tone once more back in his voice. He stopped just short of the kitchen door, and he clearly had no intention of going any further.

“Hermione, there’s something going on between you and Lucius Malfoy isn’t there?”

For a moment courage failed her, looking at Harry’s face, Hermione was sorely tempted to deny it, assure her old schoolfriend that of course he was imaging it. But she had agreed with Lucius, that he was right and that she would tell Harry. She couldn’t quite find her voice, a nod having to suffice. She could see Harry was waiting for her to elaborate but in truth she wasn’t sure what else to say.

“Does anyone else know?”

Not the next question Hermione was expecting, that is was not “What the hell are you thinking?” was in fact a bonus.

She nodded once more: “Draco and his girlfriend.” She said quietly, refraining from using Astoria’s name, that was Draco’s news to share, not hers.

“Is he ok with it?”

Okay not even the next question Hermione was expecting either. Finding her feet, a little with the somewhat one side conversation, she of course went with the truth, tackling Draco was the easy option.

“He’s alright about it, but he’s worried about what people will say.” She rushed on with her response, in case courage did fail her.

“He said he and his father know better than anyone how horrible people can be.”

“Hmm, didn’t think I would ever find myself agreeing with Draco Malfoy, but he has a point in more ways than one.”

Whilst Hermione appreciated Harry’s words, she wanted to know how he felt, not that he agreed with his old nemesis.

“What about you Harry, does agreeing with Draco mean you are okay with it, with _us_?”

Her voice was quieter, her question tentative. She searched Harry’s face hoping she could read something in it before he spoke, but she couldn’t, his feeling and thoughts were as contained as ever.

“Harry, say something.”

“I am not sure what to say to be honest.” He saw Hermione’s face fall, realising his words weren’t exactly what he’d meant.

“I don’t mean it like that, it’s just well, when I heard you talking about Lucius there was this funny little tone in your voice, then a couple of other things and I thought I was mad even thinking what I was.”

His explanation wasn’t exactly helping the situation or answering her question, Hermione’s face looking more dejected by the minute. He’d know the young witch a long time, he knew that whatever he said would not really change anything, but he knew his words, his thoughts and his feelings would mean a lot to her.

“Sorry Hermione, this isn’t coming out very well. Despite what I might have suspected you’ve caught me on the hop, I couldn’t put my finger on what it was I thinking, and I thought today things might become a bit clearer. Well they certainly have.”

He reached out and rubbed Hermione’s arm.

“Hermione you’ve known me for as long as I’ve known I was a wizard, you are my oldest and closest friend. Okay this is a bit of a surprise.”

He shrugged his shoulders, that was a bit of an understatement in some ways but not in others, but he didn’t let on to Hermione.

“If nothing else I trust your judgement, and well to be honest when it comes to personal stuff, it really is just that, it’s not for others to say or criticise, even if some will.”

Harry looked at Hermione, she was listening intently, but he got the feeling she wasn’t convinced by what he was saying. Harry went for blunt, choosing not to dwell on what others might say. He’d seen and heard enough of that, an only recently too.  

“Does Lucius Malfoy make you happy Hermione?”

Hermione’s restrained mass of wavy hair bobbed, as she nodded.

“Does he care for you and treat you properly?”

Again, Hermione nodded, but this time she found her voice, wanting to be totally honest with Harry to assure him that he had no grounds to worry. She took a deep breath, returning his bluntness.

“He loves me Harry and this is probably going sound totally bizarre but he treats me better than anyone else ever has…. And I love him.”

Hearing herself say the words out loud sounded strange even to Hermione, Merlin alone knew how they must sound to Harry after everything they had been through together. But she saw not judgement or recriminations in his face, a little surprise still lingered in his green eyes, but she could hardly blame him for that.

“Then I am happy for you Hermione and as for other people, well if they are truly your friends and care for you they will be happy too, if not immediately they will come around. As for the others, well  they don’t matter.”

Hermione heard the words from her friend that she had heard yesterday from the man she loved, the two people’s opinions she cared most about, and in her heart of hearts she knew they were right. Whilst Harry might not approve entirely or perhaps understand might be a better description, his words of sincerity and wisdom were enough for her. Hugging him tightly she all but shoved him into the kitchen.

“Oh by the way, the answer to your question, yes Lucius and I did meet Seraphina Picquery, but we can talk about that over lunch.”

Harry got the distinct impression that this going to be another revelation, and a very long lunch.


	115. Those Who Live Without Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I continue to apologise for slow updates at the moment, I hope you will forgive me. Torn ligaments in the arm and mega strong painkillers are not conducive to writing, but I am doing my best. Thank you for your continued lovely comments and I apologise for not responding directly or at length. That said please forgive any errors, I've already corrected a few.... I hope they will not spoil your enjoyment for those who find any I have missed...

 

Hermione had prepared the lunch she and Harry shared, herself, the Muggle way off course. She’d peeled her own potatoes, uninterrupted, a smile drifting across her face as she had performed the mundane task. However, to keep Miffy and the other house elves happy, she had agreed to let them serve it.  Something she confessed to her friend as they cleared the table, much to the horror of Miffy, who kept casting her huge wary eyes to the back door, something which the young wizard didn’t miss and without thinking, found himself remarking upon.

“They still fear Lucius Malfoy.”

Harry’s keen eyes, saw the brush Hermione had been using amidst a sink full of hot water and washing up bubbles still, realising what he had said, he knew Hermione was probably biting her lip and choosing the words she was about to hurl at him with great care.

“Sorry.” He offered sheepishly.

“Old habits.” His smile was just as sheepish as his tone.

“The house elves feel exactly the same I’m sure.” Hermione retaliated, her brush resuming its firm scouring of the pot.

It reminded Harry of Mrs Weasley and how she liked to use a bit of elbow grease on her favourite pots and pans. He was in enough trouble already, he doubted comparing Hermione to Molly Weasley at this point in time, was going to do him any favours.

“It might only be a _recent thing_.” Harry ventured carefully, alluding to Hermione’s short time here at the Manor.

“But I get the feeling they are not treated as harshly as Dobby was, they might still be very wary of Mister Malfoy, but they certainly don’t appear terrified.”

Draco and Lucius were still a little short with the elves at times, and often got a disapproving look from Hermione when summoning them to do something, she thought they could easily have done for themselves. But just as their tones and actions towards Miffy and the other elves had changed, Miffy and her friends, were, just as Harry had observed, no longer terrified of the Master and his son.

Hermione however, understood Harry’s perspective and if she was being honest, she doubted things would have changed as they had, had she not been in the house. She too felt a little sad, remembering the little elf they had buried on the beach. A Free Elf.

“It’s a learning curve for Draco and Lucius as well as the elves.”

Hermione said a little too seriously, that Harry couldn’t help but laugh. Again, he offered his sheepish apologies, one which came with an equally sheepish look on his face and one which Hermione got the distinct impression had nothing to do with his laughter. She creased a questioning brow at him.

Harry knew that look all too well, had she not gone down her chosen career path, he felt sure she could give Professor McGonagall a run for her money, peering over a pair of specs in a classroom.

“Before lunch, I really couldn’t help but wonder if you really knew what you were letting yourself in for.”

His tone was again a little wary, this was very new ground for him and he trod it with great care, but it was laced with the tiniest hint of amusement.

“A relationship with Lucius Malfoy, after _everything_.”

He didn’t elaborate, there was no need.

The sound of the house elves disapparating broadened the small smile dancing on his lips, revealing the full intent behind his humour and his comments.

“But I also have to wonder if Lucius Malfoy truly appreciates, just what he is letting himself in for.”

Over the crack of the vanishing elves, neither Harry nor Hermione had noticed or heard the back door open, and Lucius returning with the dogs. It was the two fury heads at Hermione’s hip which gave his presence away. The two friends turning to find the blonde wizard removing his cloak and it would appear fighting a smile of his own. Hermione knew that look all too well, Harry on the other hand appeared mortified. Whatever Hermione’s relationship with the Dark Wizard was now, it didn’t do to offend your host.  Harry wasn’t sure whether to address his own impudence, or leave it, best not to dig himself a bigger hole.

Clearly Lucius’ amusement was not prepared to let the remark go, the stern look on his face and steely expression clouding his blue grey eyes, belying the fun, and accuracy he heard in Harry’s comment. He moved fully into the room addressing the younger man in his own inimitable way.

“A little while ago Mister Potter, Hermione and I were discussing, formidable adversaries.”

His tone was as clipped as ever, but even Harry couldn’t fail to notice the softness and affection in his voice as he spoke of Hermione.

“In light of past and of more recent experiences, I thanked Salazar that I had never actually faced off against her as my enemy. I even went as far as to suggest her behaviour was at times quite Slytherin. She is indeed the most formidable of young women in every way.”

Hermione noticed a small flush creep across Harry’s cheek bones, but she also noticed a twinkle of enjoyment reflected in the green eyes behind his glasses, and a certain amount of surprise.

“Your observation is entirely accurate, although I have to confess I do enjoy both the unpredictability and of course the challenge, it keeps my wits sharp and me very much on my toes.”

Lucius was careful with his choice of words to Harry, but gathered from the conversation that he had overheard, the younger man was aware now aware of their relationship. The fact that he was able to joke about it, about him, with Hermione had to be a good sign, as did the fact he was in fact still here, clutching a tea towel none the less.  

Hermione removed her hands from the water, the scouring brush firmly clasped between her soapy, wet fingers.  She brandished it threateningly between the two men.

Lucius was reminded of a similar incident with a whisk, only a few short days ago, his eyes briefly drawn to the table before returning to the young woman before him.

Hermione saw where his eyes fell, the same batter covered whisk springing to her mind. She stopped her thoughts in their tracks, trying to remain _annoyed_ with the two men, but inwardly delighted at their interaction, their acceptance of each other. A foundation had been laid at the Ministry a few weeks ago, pleasantries exchanged, but even Hermione couldn’t believe the scene before her eyes now. She knew it was probably mostly for her benefit, with Harry at least, but she didn’t care. She would take what she could get, even at this happy moment, she knew she would need as many friends on side as she could.  She remembered he own thoughts before going to the Burrow for lunch, what a bumpy broomstick ride it was going to be, and how if her relationship became public knowledge it was going to be more like riding a dragon bareback.  She knew she’d boarded that ride, but then again, she had already ridden a dragon bareback, piece of cauldron cake, she assured herself once more casting her narrowed brown eyes between Harry and Lucius.

“You two do know I am right here.”  She admonished.

“That might only be a pot cleaner Hermione, but you are wielding it like the Elder wand.”

Just like Lucius Malfoy’s had done, Harry’s lips twitched with amusement. He could see Hermione desperately trying to maintain her so called consternation, but they really did know each other too well, she was not annoyed with either of them. Her sparkling brown eyes gave her away, he couldn’t remember the last time he saw them glittering with such happiness. He was also certain that it wasn’t just about Lucius Malfoy, without blowing his own trumpet, he certainly knew Hermione well enough to know his own reaction would have increased her happiness.

Her involvement with Lucius Malfoy was certainly going to ruffle a few feathers, raise a few eyebrows sky high and cause some very heated, even angry conversations, and that was only in the Weasley household, but if she was happy, then he was happy for her.

Lucius Malfoy was right, Hermione was a very formidable young woman and a worthy adversary for anyone, it was a brave anyone who challenged her or her decisions. He might fear for his friend, the things she would have to face and endure, the comments, the nastiness, but he also pitied whomever had the guts to voice any of those nasty opinions. He also realised she would have Lucius Malfoy at her side and whatever he may of thought about this man, maybe some of those thoughts still lingered, just a little bit, Harry could see he would defend Hermione, quite possibly with his life. For that he had his undying respect and admiration.

 

Over lunch Hermione had filled Harry in, quite literally, with a cottage pie and with no doubt what was just a potted version of what had happened over the last couple of months. The idea of meeting for lunch was to chat and catch up, as he had continued to eat, and the story had unravelled, Harry didn’t do very much chatting, but he certainly caught up. He felt like he had missed out on a lifetime, how could this have all happened in such a short space of time, more to the point, how could he not have known about any of it?

By the time she reached the part about the meeting Seraphina Picquery, she had to apply a heating charm to her own food, hardly having paused for breath, let alone time to eat. Thankfully Harry was almost finished as his jaw dropped and ceased to work, his brain might have been on information overload, but he had absorbed everything she had told him.

“Hermione tells me that you met with President Picquery the other day.”

He didn’t mention that Hermione had told him about the head of MACUSA’s interest in her work, Lucius it would appear simply assumed that she had. It was at this moment, Harry realised that Lucius Malfoy knew or perhaps understood Hermione Granger almost as well as he did.

“We did indeed.”

Without a second thought Lucius sat himself down at the table. He caught sight of a somewhat amused smile curving Hermione’s lips, confusion flashed across his face.

“Coffee, sorry tea Lucius?”

If Harry wasn’t very much mistaken the tiniest hint of colour stung Lucius Malfoy’s pale cheeks, even to him, this time it was obvious he was missing something. A little heat drifted into his own face, clearly something private between the two of them, it was a very odd sensation.

“Tea would be lovely Hermione, if that’s alright and I am not interrupting your lunch.”

This was an even odder sensation, Harry’s brain had mastered some intricate spells in its time, he’d even gotten to understand Ginny Weasley, he’d shared thoughts with Lord Voldemort, but hearing Lucius Malfoy, all but ask permission in his own home. This wasn’t the weak broken man he’d seen at Malfoy Manor when he’d been brought here as a captive. He looked like just like Draco’s arrogant father, but he could see it more now than ever, in his own home, and with Hermione, there was something _very different,_ about this Lucius Malfoy. For one thing he’d never imagined Draco’s father drinking tea in the kitchen, let alone with Hermione and himself come to that.

“You promised to join as after lunch.”

Hermione reminded him sending a cup and saucer in his direction. Picking up two mugs containing the same beverage she ushered Harry over to the table and sat down.

There was another of those silent exchanges between his old school friend and the dark wizard, he encountered another of those odd sensations, but Harry found himself becoming accustomed to them, to it all, including this very peculiar scene of what he could only call domesticity. It almost put him in mind of Ron’s parents……. almost.

There was just this underlying understanding, a connection between them, as his eyes grew more and more accustomed to the scene, like Hermione, his brain just seemed to process it and move on. He wasn’t sure if that was even more peculiar.

“Hermione hasn’t accepted her offer officially yet but…...”

Lucius saw the blank expression on the younger man’s face and realised with some horror that Hermione obviously hadn’t filled her friend in entirely on the meeting with the head of MACUSA, a similar horror flittered in to his own veins, that he had betrayed a confidence.

Hermione was sipping her hot tea, through the steam, she was confronted with a look of horror and one of shock, knowing these men as she did, she knew exactly what was going through both of their minds, she buried the urge to laugh in her mug, responding somewhat nonchalantly to them both.

“Harry and I had quite a bit to catch up on, I might have glossed over some parts.”

She glanced at Harry guiltily, realising actually she hadn’t caught up on any of Harry’s news, she’d done all of the talking and had just bombarded him with her news whilst he had eaten.

“Sorry, I think I might have monopolised the conversation a bit.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders, there had been many revelations over the delicious cottage pie, missing breakfast meant really, he didn’t mind listening at all, but it would appear, there were even more revelations to come.  Bugger any conversation monopoly…. He played it casually, not wanting to appear anxious or like an excited teenager.

“Don’t worry between you and Ginny I am used to not getting a word in. What offer is this then?”

Lucius glanced at Hermione over his somewhat thinner china, thankfully she didn’t appear angry with him, in fact those fiery brown eyes were currently shooting daggers at her old school friend, presumably for his rather rude but apparently playful comment.

“Well, not only was Madam Picquery very interested in my work but she asked me to speak to MACUSA about what I do…...  and she wants Lucius would accompany me, so they can understand it from both perspectives, see how it works properly.”

Once again Harry found his jaw not complying with his request for it to move in verbal response, it was quite content to drop and hit the table. That was certainly a little bit more than glossing over, but he didn’t say anything… he couldn’t.

Lucius could see the out and out shock in Harry’s face, whether it was because Hermione had been asked to do such a thing in a previously unknown field in the wizarding world, or because the he had been asked to go with her, he wasn’t entirely certain, although he could probably hazard a pretty accurate guess.

“I am of course delighted for Hermione; her work is very important, and others should be made aware of it. However, I must confess Mister Potter, if I had ever envisaged myself before MACUSA, it certainly wasn’t in this way.”

Harry found himself caught completely off guard by Lucius Malfoy’s self-deprecation and candour. Opting to respond with equal honesty, his wariness more directed at Hermione than to the man whom he addressed so frankly.

“I can image. A few years ago, it would have been a very different story.”

In his peripheral vision he saw Hermione’s brows knit into a frown, her mug landing on the wooden table rather loudly, but he wasn’t going to be deterred, he wasn’t a sycophant and he was sure, knowing his friend, she’d told Lucius Malfoy a few home truths in the weeks, she’d been here.

“But I have to admit that all seems very different now, and I wouldn’t want to argue with three such minds as, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Seraphina Picquery and Hermione Granger, individually let alone collectively. I’m no expert on Hermione’s work, but I am sure it will benefit others, to hear details first hand.”

Harry breathed an inward sigh of relief, feeling he had dug himself sufficiently out of that hole, whilst maintaining his honesty, neither Lucius Malfoy nor Hermione had hexed him, so that was all good.  This was going to be another bombshell for others though.

“Arguing with Hermione aside.”

Lucius smiled with that same indulgence at Hermione, Harry was again engulfed in that odd sensation, but he felt that same strange sense of security for Hermione. Scarily, they made a very formidable couple.

“I don’t think everyone is going to share your gracious thoughts.”

He was tempted to say or be quite so forgiving, but the Dark Wizard felt that was perhaps a little too far too soon. However outwardly accepting the young man might be of the situation, he could just be being polite or doing it for his friend’s sake.

Lucius viewed Hermione’s best friend through hooded eyes, the boy who had once upset the world as he knew it and believed it should be. The young man who had stood up against the Dark Lord, the man he himself was afraid to. Lucius viewed the small world around himself at this moment in time, who would ever have thought, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger here at Malfoy Manor, how different was this to anything he had ever imagined. But how good did it feel?

Whatever outward front this young man was showing him, Lucius knew he would be concerned for Hermione, and for good reason.  He didn’t voice their common ground to ingratiate himself with Hermione’s friend, but out of that same very genuine concern.

“Hermione was concerned for me Mister Potter, hence why she did not give Madam Picquery an answer straight away. I too have concerns, but for very different reasons.”

Hermione’s hand was resting on the table next to her mug, as Lucius Malfoy returned his own cup and saucer to the worn surface, Harry noticed his long fingers brush the tips of Hermione’s, the concern in his voice and his words extending through his touch.

“I know there are some who will consider standing alongside me professionally as treasonous in our world, even if you do have the backing of two of the most power wizarding minds in the world. To do so personally and out of choice, is putting it mildly, unthinkable. Those I have loved have suffered previously from my actions, I would not want history to repeat itself, not for any reason.”

Lucius Malfoy’s briefest touch to Hermione’ hand might have been surreptitious, but not hers, her hand coming to cover his, she said nothing, she didn’t need to. The blatant affectionate gesture in front of her old friend speaking the same volumes as Lucius Malfoy’s open admission of love.

Harry’s green eyes once again drifted to his oldest friend, nothing could detract from the happiness he saw, but he knew her too well, worry clung to her the cloak of invisibility, and not for herself.

Just as it obviously did with the former Death Eater, it stirred a protectiveness in Harry. This wasn’t about him, or about any lingering doubts or feelings he might have about Lucius Malfoy, this was about the young woman who had stood by him at every turn, who had been his best friend for as long as he could remember. If those two things had now become inextricably linked, that they loved each other, then it was not his or anyone else’s business. Hermione’s happiness was what mattered. That, that happiness came from the very same man, who was Harry or anyone else to judge.

Another man Harry had once hated, once mistrusted, had always loved his mother, and he’d spent his life protecting Harry because of that love and had even died doing it. Those actions and Professor Dumbledore’s words resonated around in the young wizard’s mind as he reiterated his own words.

 “As I said to Hermione earlier Mister Malfoy, I am happy for her, she is my best friend. As for other people, well if they are truly your friends and care for you, they will be happy too, if not immediately they will come around. As for the others, what they say, it really doesn’t matter.”

He saw Hermione’s slim fingers tighten about Lucius Malfoy’s hand, his eyes briefly draw to them, before returning to Lucius Malfoy’s steely blue grey gaze.  

“Professor Dumbledore once said to me, he prided himself on his ability to turn a phrase. I am not sure I can do justice to what he said or quote him precisely, but he said that in his opinion words were the most inexhaustible source of magic, as they were capable of inflecting injury and remedying it.  He also said, that we should pity those who live without love.”

Whether or not he had quoted the late Hogwart’s Headmaster word for word, it seemed to carry the same weight. It didn’t sound quite as wise when he said it, but the inference and thought were there just the same.

“I think you do both his very wise words, and his memory a great justice Mister Potter. Thank you.”

For the first time Harry saw and heard raw emotion in Lucius Malfoy’s face and voice, it was almost that frailty he had glimpsed in this house all those years ago. But now it came from a genuine sincerity of emotion not of fear or of a simpering need to please.

His green eyes glanced at Hermione, a gentle, thankful smile curved her lips, and she mouthed the same words to her friend, her eyes bright with tears.


	116. Where My Heart Will Take Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well my lovely readers, I have to continue with apologies for slow updates, but appreciate your good wishes and continued lovely comments. It really gives me a boost and reason to work through the pain, even if I do pay for it afterwards. I also apologise for not responding to all of those comments. If there are any errors of any kind its either duff hand/arm or painkillers possibly both, at least I have a good excuse :-)
> 
> That said I hope there are not too many and that you enjoy :-) ...This chapter is a little indulgence on my part some of you out there might get the reference, but don't worry if you don't it isn't important, just a little "folly" on my part.

 

"It's been a long road getting from there to here." Lucius said quietly in his usual clipped aristocratic tones, but there was soft almost relieved edge to his voice.

Hermione smiled at a particularly handsome Lucius as they prepared to leave the Manor for London, and Kingsley Shacklebolt's 50th birthday party.

"I feel there is a change in the air Lucius, nothing is going to hold you down."

She gave him a dazzling smile, as he closed the space between them in a split second. Cupping her chin in his hand he ran his thumb gently across her warm cheek. Hermione leaned into his touch, relishing it's feel, its security, she brushed an almost invisible speck of dust from his impeccably tailored dress robes. His usually free mane of mellifluous blonde hair, was caught in a narrow strand of darkest navy ribbon, the shade matched his robes perfectly and brought out the blueness in his eyes.

"I wish I had your confidence my love."

His own smile was a little more reticent, but there was no hiding his feelings for Hermione in his more blue than grey sparkling eyes. That he could call her his love, gave him a confidence he had never known before, but trepidation still danced along his spine.

"Once upon a time I would be walking into the hotel with a swaggering arrogance which knew no bounds. Much as I am looking forward to this evening, being with you, with my son, and Astoria. I cannot help but feel…"

Hermione silenced him with a soft lingering kiss, his surprised lips responding to her own immediately.

"I have faith Lucius, say what you will, put yourself down, but better than anyone, I have seen the strength of your soul, no one is going to bend or break you again."

She saw those exquisitely expressive blue grey eyes sparkling with emotion at her gently reassuring words and of course her always comforting touch.

"Faith of the heart Lucius… I love you."

She assured him quietly, her own bright brown eyes confident and assertive, filled with love for this man.

"I love you too Hermione."

He said, his voice husky, soft and brimming with emotion. His embrace was fuelled with the same emotion, it spilled from his body into hers. Despite everything that they had shared over the last few months, she had never felt so close, or so connected to him as she did right now. Perhaps it was because tonight, despite the fact it was a celebration, they were probably going to need each other, and rely on each other more than ever, it was certainly going to be a test of, well just about everything really.

Lucius closed his eyes, he didn't need to look at Hermione Granger, she filled every other sense, in every way possible. The softness of her skin against his own and her delicate fragrance giving him a self-assurance he had lacked for so long, giving him a purpose like he had never known before. There was something very real about it, it was powered by love and trust, not by hate and fear. It was a feeling which had been wafting over and engulfing Lucius Malfoy since the first time Hermione Granger had walked back into his life. Tonight, she would stand alongside him in public, in front of her friends and her colleagues, many of who would still wish him incarcerated in Azkaban or worse.

He had often described the young witch as brave, somehow to him this seemed like the bravest thing she had ever done. But before they joined the party itself, they were meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Seraphina Picquery to accept the Head of MACUSA's offer. Hermione had somehow, also persuaded Lucius that they should tell them about their personal relationship.

_The previous evening, she had told him…_

" _I want everything above board Lucius, no secrets, not anymore."_

" _But what if our relationship changes things, Madam Picquery, might retract her offer, see it as a conflict of interests."_

_Hermione had seen Lucius point, but she still had that faith and of course logic was on her side. Seraphina Picquery was nobody's fool, she was also a woman._

" _Well firstly quite simply Lucius, it isn't, nor are we misleading anyone. You have helped me a great deal with my work, I make no bones about that to anyone. Without your insight and assistance, without being able to talk to you as I have, and without your honesty, I would not understand first hand as I do now. You have given me and my work a very different perspective."_

_Lucius had nodded, and she had seen something strange glittering in the depths of his eyes. These days she didn't let him get away with anything, not that she ever had._

" _What is it Lucius?"_

_Something had suddenly occurred to Hermione, perhaps he was having second thoughts, maybe her fears for his ability to deal with this were justified, as always, she had put him first, her hand had grasped his._

" _Lucius, if this is too much, if you want me to decline Madam Picquery's offer, it's fine, honestly, I can continue my work here at…."_

_She'd seen that strangeness in his eyes turn to horror and disbelief at such a suggestion._

" _Hermione no, for Salazar's sake no! I would not allow you to do that, not for me, you have worked too hard. I just cannot help but feel a little guilty, that you give me far too much credit, when it is you that has helped me more than you will ever know."_

_His own hand had tightened about her own and his steadfast gaze had fallen from hers into the fire, which blazed gently, as they'd sat in his study after dinner, curled up in one of the cosy love seats. Hermione had fallen in love with this room, almost as much as she had Lucius._

" _Before you came here, something wasn't right."_

_His blue grey eyes once more drifted back to her beautiful face, rosy from the warmth of the fire, he had lifted his hand pushing a rogue strand of hair behind her ear._

" _Before you came here an awful lot wasn't right." He'd confessed quietly and honestly._

" _And in so many different ways, none of which I would ever have admitted to, to anyone, anyone but you that is, even now, I still find that a little ironic."_

_He had given her a resigned smile, before continuing with equal candour._

" _I suppose no one cared enough to notice, but I knew…I… you have changed so much… you have changed everything… including me."_

_As well as feeling overjoyed at his words, it had been Hermione's turn to feel guilty. She had told him she wanted everything to be above board, for there to be no more secrets, but she still harboured a secret of her own. Well, it wasn't really her secret, but Lucius believed no one had cared about him enough to notice or to know how much he was hurting. That wasn't true, it never had been, this was going to be the biggest test of her faith, and his for that matter._

" _They did Lucius."_

_She had said firmly, as nerves fluttered in her stomach._

" _Someone cared very much, they cared enough to come to someone they had once hated and ask for their help. They cared enough to go behind your back and to hell with the consequences."_

_She had seen the confusion in his face, his brows knitting questioningly, his eyes searching her face._

" _Draco?"_

_Those searching confused eyes, had burned brightly with glistening tears at what he was hearing. Carefully Hermione had carried on, this wasn't her secret to tell, not really, well perhaps half of it was. But that gut and those instincts she had gone with so many times with Lucius, were telling her this was the right time and she wanted him to know just how much his son had always cared about him, had always worried about him. She didn't lie to Lucius she couldn't, she simply bent her side of the story just a tiny bit to protect both him and Draco._

" _Yes Draco." She'd admitted gently._

" _He had an idea about what I did, and we chatted a couple of times about it, just in passing, it isn't easy explaining what I do to anyone, let alone Draco."_

_As much as she wanted to be totally honest with Lucius, Hermione didn't want him thinking anyone had conspired behind his back, even if in many ways they'd done just that._

" _He said he was worried about you and asked if I could help in some way."_

_Hermione decided this was the best place to slightly move the Quidditch posts, pander to Lucius' ego, for his own good of course and bend the truth just a smidgen._

" _To be honest he did me a huge favour, although I didn't tell him that, you know what he was like."_

_Hermione had kept her tone light and easy, not waiting for any response from Lucius, quickly going on._

" _I was looking for someone to help me with my research just as I told you, and rather selfishly I thought maybe the two might be linked in some way. I could maybe unknowingly help you and you could definitely help me."_

_They had talked previously about their own_ _**ulterior** _ _motives, but Hermione had always omitted Draco's part in the story, as to why she had really come to Malfoy Manor or been asked to. Fear suddenly raced through her veins, Seraphina Picquery withdrawing her offer was the least of Hermione's concerns. She would not blame Lucius for feeling that their entire relationship had been built on some kind of deception, that she had come into his home under false pretences, that she didn't really care for him at …_

_The breath had been all but squeezed from her body, her ribs crushed against him, his arms around her like tightening Devil's Snare._

_She'd been thrust backwards before once more being enveloped in the powerful arms of Lucius Malfoy. Finally, he released her, once more pushing her backwards and just looking at her and looking at her some more. So much emotion filling his eyes and etched on his handsome incredulous face like she had never seen before. For once words seemed to totally fail him, faltering at every turn._

" _I…I, you and Draco…I….Hermione…I…"_

_Hermione waited patiently for a coherent sentence to form. Knowing that any anxieties had been needless, whatever Lucius Malfoy was trying to say, there was no anger involved, not feelings of deception, only pure joy._

" _I cannot believe that Draco noticed. That he really cared enough to go to someone he….someone" Those blue grey eyes flickered with guilt once more before he found the courage to use the words._

"… _.He despised… to ask for help, for me. All the while I thought he didn't care, let alone perceive that anything was wrong. And that you would even consider helping him, after everything that he had done to you, that we had done to you, let alone consider helping me, whatever your reasons. I just…I cannot….."_

_Hermione had gone from the tightness of Lucius fervent embrace to being completely alone. It didn't take a genius to figure out where the Dark Wizard had gone._

_Astoria had joined them again for dinner and following the meal she and Draco had once again gone to the games room, according to Astoria the younger Malfoy was about to receive another masterclass in Wizard Chess._

_Hermione had felt this was one of those times that father and son should be alone, the little Devil had reared his head to remind Hermione that they were not alone, Astoria was with them, and that whilst Lucius might have been delighted with Hermione's revelation of his son's caring intervention, Draco himself might not be so pleased or at the very least a little shocked that she had told his father. Swallowing hard and casting the little demon aside Hermione to had headed to the games room._

_A somewhat stunned Astoria Greengrass was looking on in a state of bewilderment as Lucius hugged his son for all he was worth, it was as if he was seeing his only child for the very first time. Hermione couldn't help but feel that was precisely what he was doing._

_Draco had also been looking a little taken aback by his father's sudden uncharacteristic and demonstrative outpouring of emotion and thanks. Hermione had mouthed the word "Sorry" she meant for revealing their secret, but right now knowing just how vice like that grip Lucius had on his son was, it was for subjecting him quite possibly to a cracked rib._

"Are you two ready?" Draco asked as he and Astoria joined them in the sitting room.

They both turned to face Lucius' son, he too looked very dashing in full dress robes, the younger Malfoy and Hermione exchanged knowing glances. Draco forgoing his usually more modern attire for something more traditional to please his father, which of course he did. An approving nod and smile coming from the older Malfoy.

Hermione felt almost frumpy next to the dark, statuesque beauty at Draco's side, dressed in a sliver of emerald green silk, and spikey heels, which made her taller than Draco. Hermione too supposed she had opted unthinkingly for house colours, her own dress of silk and lace in a deep Gryffindor red.

"As ready as we will ever be." Lucius said, titling his chin with a familiar Malfoy arrogance.

Hermione shook her head smiling reassuringly at him. She took his hand in hers.

"Where my heart will take me." Lucius whispered as they stepped into the great fireplace in the hallway and flooed from Malfoy Manor to Wizarding London and the Aurora Imperial


	117. The Right Reasons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, of late, my continued thanks for your support and your patience. I can write for a bit longer now, but I do still pay the price. Apologies for those pesky errors, incapacity and drugs are not a writers friend.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this little prelude to the party...

Being able to organise a birthday part in such a short space of time, not give anyone any notice and still manage to have such an illustrious list of guests amazed both Draco and Astoria, but as his father was quick to point out, when you are the Minister of Magic and the top of that guest list happens to be the Head of MACUSA, people tend to change any plans they might have already made.

The hotel itself had certainly pulled out all of the stops to accommodate the Minister, its decorations and celebratory adornments far out weighing those of the event only a few months before. They had even managed to organise live entertainment, who even this earlier in the evening were enthusiastically entertaining the first arrivals. Hermione and Lucius left Draco and Astoria to find some of their own friends, and it went without saying, some refreshments, of which there were plenty on offer, simple glasses of champagne floated around on shiny silver trays, as did a vast array of bubbling colourful cocktails, somewhat reminiscent of a potions lesson at Hogwarts.

Hermione and Lucius made their way to the spectacular and equally beautifully decorated atrium, the meeting with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Seraphina Picquery taking place in the Presidential Suite where of course she was staying. A separate elevator, protected by a liveried employee granted direct access to the penthouse floor, giving him their names, he pushed the button and at breakneck speed they found themselves outside a surprisingly ordinary door.

Hermione couldn't hide her disillusion, which was reflected in her decidedly let down tone.

"I was expecting something much grander than a simple white door with small silver numbers."

She gave Lucius a sidelong look.

"I am sure the room itself is much  _grander_." His used her own choice of word, amusement lacing his voice.

His hand had been resting at the base of Hermione's spine, it drifted up to where her flesh was bare, the high, almost prim lace front of her dress, hid a deliciously low back, his fingers brushed against her silky-smooth skin.

"I remember it was when I stayed here." His tone had taken on a darkly suggestive edge.

"Hmm, I remember." Hermione's skin flushed as she recalled her first night with Lucius, her eyes dancing mischievously.

"I wonder if my room will be as nice?"

She watched as Lucius' brows met in curiosity, fleeting quickly into a deep frown.

"You are staying here tonight."

His tone now as disappointed as Hermione's had been moments earlier. She hadn't mentioned staying overnight at the hotel.

"I am." She said trying to school her features at his marked confusion and obvious regret.

"I thought you might like to join me." She offered, her eyes positively sparkling with mischief and the promise of so much more.

"I promise not to get grumpy and kick you out in the morning."

She controlled her laughter, but only as far a huge face splitting grin. The change in Lucius expression was utterly joyous, he like her, trying to control his features, feigning annoyance at her reference to how their first night, early morning had ultimately ended.

"How very forward of you Miss Granger, how could I….."

Their exchange was curtailed as the door to the penthouse suite swung open and they were greeted by the Minister of Magic and the Head of MACUSA both looking downright resplendent in their respective robes. Hermione had felt frumpy enough next to the tall, very elegant Astoria Greengrass, she all but shrivelled against the darkly majestic American woman, her stunning headdress adding a good foot to her already statuesque height. Kingsley was of course as vibrant and ebullient as ever, his own robes complimenting his counterpart beautifully, they made a very striking and formidable couple themselves.

"Hermione!"

The young witch found herself in a surprising and enthusiastic hug.

"Lucius."

Whilst not being hugged by the clearly very happy Minister, Hermione got the distinct impression Lucius' handshake was just as enthusiastically tight.

"Happy Birthday Kingsley." Hermione offered remembering the gift in her tiny evening bag, thank Merlin for extension charms she thought as she rummaged around to retrieve it.

"Thank you, thank you, oh my dear you shouldn't have."

Whilst admonishing Hermione for his present he could not disguise the look on his face, like that of small child on Christmas morning, his eagerness to open the present even more so.

He undid the carefully wrapped gift that Hermione handed him, the joy on his face spreading.

"Hermione, oh my word where on earth did you find this, it's a first edition and signed too."

Before Hermione could respond to the Minister's excited question she was once more engulfed in his colourful robes and bear like hug, much to the clear amusement of Lucius and Seraphina Picquery to whom Kingsley turned, passing his gift for inspection.

"Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them." He unnecessarily explained.

"A first edition no less, beautifully Illustrated in colour, and signed by Newt Scamander himself, Hermione, its perfect, absolutely lovely, you shouldn't have."

Hermione couldn't contain her own delight at the Minister's obvious pleasure. The book had been very hard to come by, but with Lucius' help and his insistence on contributing to its purchase, between them they had managed. Hermione was aware that Kingsley had been trying to find a copy for some considerable time. It was rather an extravagant gift but, it was his 50th birthday, not a milestone you reach every day, and without the constant support of the Minister, the young witch would certain not be in the position she was now, and neither would Lucius Malfoy, which was more important to her.

"We are glad you like it Kingsley" Lucius added, accepting another handshake from the thrilled Minister.

"Hermione had been determined to find a copy for you, fortunately I have a friend who deals in rare and ancient books."

The tag on the present wished him a very happy birthday and was signed with grateful thanks from them both. Its reading aloud to Seraphina Picquery brought Hermione nicely on to what she, they, wanted to tell them both, before formally accepting President Picquery's offer, if of course there was still an offer to accept after her, their admission.

"Thank you I will treasure it, it is very kind and so thoughtful of your both."

Hermione noticed another of those small exchanges between him and the older witch, following on from his thanks, she got the feeling that what she was about to say, was not going to come as any great surprise…to either of them.

"Madam President, Kingsley, I know we are here to meet regarding your offer for Lucius and I to address MACUSA, help them to understand my work etcetera. But I feel…"

She felt Lucius take a step closer to her, she met President Picquery's brown gaze head on.

" _We_ feel, that there is something you should be aware of, it may change your mind about the offer, which we will fully understand, but that said I, we…"

Whilst it was not odd having Lucius at her side, speaking for them both took some getting used to.

"We want to be upfront and don't want you to be deceived in anyway."

There was another of looks, and whilst Seraphina Picquery's face remained impassive, Kinsley fought to contain the beam, which threatened to spread across his and split it positively in half. Hermione knew without a shadow of a doubt; her confession was going to be no surprise…...to either of them. The statuesque American inclined her head, causing the adornments on her headdress to glisten and even tinkle. Hermione continued.

She had gone over and over the words in her head, how she was going to phrase her admission to them, the actual words she was going to use, but now as push came to shove, they all seemed to desert her. She'd felt Lucius' powerful and reassuring presence at her side, she felt his hand once more on her bare back, it was a distraction she didn't need, but she welcomed his touch none the less. Finally, the Head of MACUSA smiled, a soft grin spreading across her face just as it had Kingsley's moments earlier.

"I am very naughty Hermione, I will put you out of your misery, if you are about to confess that there is something more than a professional relationship between yourself and Mister Malfoy, then there is no need."

The soft grin had morphed into a very feminine, very knowing look of understanding, one which she suddenly switched to Kingsley Shacklebolt, before moving towards Lucius.

"The respect, and affection, dare I say love that you two have for each other, is so obvious. I could see it the moment I saw you together."

Was it really that obvious? Hermione swallowed hard, leaning more into Lucius reassuring touch, looking to the Minister, her friend for his reaction, feeling perhaps she had deceived him more than anyone.

"Kingsley, I…"

This time the little look exchanged between the two powerful heads of the wizarding world came with a gesture. The Minister of Magic moving to the side Head of MACUSA, he took her slim, bejewelled hand in his own and raised it to his lips, winking and smiling at Hermione.

"We men are not so good at hiding our affections, our love for another, even if we think we are."

His glance moved briefly to Lucius, before returning to a rather startled Hermione.

"I better than anyone understand, that it is all too easy for respect and admiration to develop into something more, to fall in love with someone with whom you work very closely, and I am sure that you and Lucius have worked a lot closer together than Seraphina and I."

Hermione felt her face burn at the Minister's words, even if she was perhaps interpreting them a little differently to how he had meant them.

"Even to someone who does not fully understand the nature of your work Hermione, I think it is inevitable that you would become close, perhaps closer than either of you had expected."

The Minister's face became more serious.

"Hermione and I have been through a lot together good and bad." His dark brown eyes flittered to the tall blonde man.

"Much of which you have also been a part Lucius."

Hermione noticed Kingsley did not elaborate, mentally she could hear Lucius saying, mostly the bad for his own part. As well as she knew the Dark Wizard, she also knew the Minister of Magic, with his words thus far, she instinctively guessed where he was going.

"Not only is Hermione my friend and esteemed colleague, but she is also a very formidable witch in her own right, I trust her judgment unquestioningly and her with my life, which is rather important to me."

The Minister lightened the seriousness of his words with a little wry humour before once more continuing in the same serious vein.

"Lucius as you will no doubt remember, I had my reservations, concerns even about you and Hermione working together, but I also remember, mentioning how things hand changed and the spirit of reconciliation."

Kingsley Shacklebolt exchanged brief glances with both Lucius and Hermione. Hermione for one remembered that conversation all too well, it seemed like a very long time ago, but it really wasn't. Kinsley had mentioned how things had changed, things had certainly changed beyond all recognition since that day. The Minister caught her eye once more.

"I, like Seraphina, Hermione and many of my colleagues and friends have left the past where it belongs, we have embraced change and are now moving with the times. Unfortunately, there are some who have not, who are not so ready to leave the past behind, I understand that."

A hint of sadness clouded the Minister's face.

"However, personally I find it sad. Of course, we must never forget the things that have happened, but we must learn from them in every way possible and we have to move on. You two know as well as I do that there are some people who will not be as happy and as understanding about your relationship, I hear from Harry, that your working together ruffled a few feathers and upset a few people."

The sage Minister did not wait for a response, his chocolate brown gaze took in the three people, listening intently to him, he had digressed all be it very slightly, he brought his words back to the moment in hand.

"By the time you two get back from MACUSA and have been pictured a few times together, those people will have found something or someone else to talk about."

If Hermione didn't know any better she would swear that the Minister of Magic and Head of MACUSA had been conniving together, especially in light of their own revelation. President Picquery followed on with some wise words of her own.

"Hermione, I do not know you as Kingsley does, but like I said before your reputation precedes you." Her warm brown eyes drifted to Lucius, a twinkle very reminiscent of Kingsley's lurking in their depths.

"As does yours Mister Malfoy.

A few months ago, no matter who had said that to the former Death Eater, he would not have appreciated their connotations, but now he accepted them with the honesty, even humour that they were uttered.

"I certainly have no doubt in your abilities, either of you. I know what is at your heart Hermione. You and I are very similar beings. I know that you will work as diligently for me as you do for Kingsley,"

Hermione nodded, the threat of tears constricting her throat and pricking her eyes.

"Always Madam President, you need never question that. I am as grateful to you for this opportunity as I am to the Minster for his unwavering support of my work and of me. So, yes Lucius and I would love to accept your more than gracious offer."

"Excellent, excellent." Boomed Kingsley in his deep voice, his big brown eyes twinkling happily, before a rather sulky, look drifted across his face, his brows knitting together in consternation.

"Although I am loathe to part with Hermione, even for the shortest time."

The gave his counterpart a warning look, but there was no hiding the gentleness in his eyes, or the smile tugging at his lips.

Seraphina Picquery was without question a skilful match for the Minister, her own almond shaped eyes narrowing, the same softness in the depths, her own smile cunning.

"In that case Kingsley, the sooner Hermione comes to MACUSA, the sooner you will have her back."

"Hmm, that is very sly of you Madam President."

Kinsley rubbed his jaw thoughtfully.

"And also, very true."

The older witch returned her attention to Hermione and Lucius.

"Kinsley and I's bantering aside, I would like you to speak with my colleagues sooner rather than later, I am returning to the United States on Wednesday, do you suppose, it would be possible for you to come with me?

Hermione's head spun, she had thought perhaps a few weeks' time, but not a few days. If Kingsley was alright with it, then she certainly had no problems, she turned to Lucius, this really was up to him, if he was up to this kind of challenge, both mentally and physically. Her brown eyes searched his face, clearly as surprised as she was, but something told her it wasn't just about the short time frame.

For the first time, quite possibly in his entire life Lucius Malfoy, felt he was part of something, not only part of something, but of something very real, something very special. Not only his relationship with Hermione, but with the two other people in the room. For the first time in his life it was based on honesty, goodness and a desire to do something for other people not just himself.

"Madam President, I too am inordinately grateful for your offer and am at your disposal."

The Dark Wizard spoke softly, almost humbly in his clipped cut glass tones.

"And I thank you for your words, just as there are many who will not like my relationship with Hermione, there will be as many, if not more who think I do not deserve a second chance, any chance at all, come to that. Truthfully I must say that I do not blame them."

He felt Hermione tense beneath his touch, he knew exactly what was going through her mind, that she was quite possibly about to speak. His fingers reassured her, just as hers had done many times.

"I am therefore very grateful to you both, to you  _all."_

His fingers moved against Hermione's skin, the words meant for her more than anyone.

"For the chance you are giving me. I have to confess, and I have admitted this to Hermione, when I agreed to help her with her work, I only did so because of the good I saw it could do me."

Three sets of darkest brown eyes watched him intently, there was no questioning the sincerity in his words.

"How wrong I was, my reasons now are so very different. I would stand here and quite happily bore you all senseless with them, but I won't, all I will say is now I feel that they are all the right reasons and it is quite possibly the first time in my life I have done anything for the right reasons."

The three sets of eyes continued to watch him, he had no doubt they would all continue to listen attentively, no matter what he had to say, that knowledge alone was something else Lucius Malfoy was inordinately grateful for.

"But I fear I must now face some of those who are not so accepting of me."

He felt Hermione, move away from his touch, but only to slip her hand into his.

"We will face them together." She said quietly, in that reassuring tone that he knew so well.

To his complete surprise, the Minister of Magic and Head of MACUSA took each other's hands in the same way, Kingsley Shacklebolt almost grudgingly putting his birthday gift from Hermione onto one of the immaculately polished tables, before flicking open the door to the penthouse suite with a wave of his large, now free hand.

"Lucius, it is my party, which I hasten to add we are missing. We have concluded the  _business_  part."

He gave the assembled three a reproachful but humorous look, before seriousness once more returned to his dark features.

"Let's have some fun, and face them… together."


	118. Unless Your Name is Weasley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well as is the norm at the moment, I must thank you all for your continued patience. The ligaments were recovering well, until I slipped on the wet floor and set them all back again. So being back to square one has really not helped with the writing. I hope you are still hanging in there, I promise I will get updates to you as soon as I can. 
> 
> Thank you as always for continued kudos and comments, I am sorry that I haven't replied to you all personally as I like to do.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this rather teasing little chapter and of course forgive any errors...

 

The party was well under way by the time they joined it; the sound of excited chatter and music drifting to the lifts as the doors opened. Kingsley Shacklebolt offered Seraphina Picquery a brightly coloured, robed arm, and a warm indulgent smile. A smile that was returned with the same warmth, her eyes glowing with affection. The powerful couple turned their gazes to the two people standing just behind them, Lucius arm might not have been as brightly coloured, but it was equally well robed, and his smile was just as warm and quite possibly even more indulgent.  Hermione took it willingly, the glowing affection in her brown eyes seeming to radiate from her entire body, her fingers tightened in the crook of his arm and Lucius free hand came to cover them. The gesture would leave no on in any doubt that his arm had not just been offered in a chivalrous gesture.

There was a mischievous glint in the Minister’s eye as he nodded at Lucius, Hermione found herself on the receiving end of an equally impish wink from his American counterpart, it immediately banished the tiny fingers of trepidation which teased the base of her spine. There was a Muggle expression about jumping in, or being thrown in at the deep end. Hermione felt this was definitely a bit of both.

The Muggle connection made Hermione think of her parents, and along with that Muggle saying, the young witch found a couple of rather appropriate tunes dancing around in her head, favourites of her Mum and Dad, who had rather opposing taste in music. She smiled at her thoughts of them and of their musical diversity…. It’s Now Or Never and All Or Nothing At All, again it was definitely a case of both…

Stepping from the lift and into the full swing of the party, Kingsley Shacklebolt was immediately bombarded with birthday wishes, handshakes and even the odd hug, which he graciously accepted in true Kingsley fashion. His companion was introduced to well-wishers, most of the introductions were preceded with the phrase, “And of course you know ….” Hermione doubted that there was a single person here who didn’t know the famed head of MACUSA, even if it was only by name and reputation, in her own way the young witch could identify with that.  She found herself in a similar situation, along with Lucius, being introduced to those of Kingsley’s personal friends whom they did not know, surprisingly of which there were quite a few. She silently thanked the clearly overjoyed _birthday boy,_ giving him a grateful smile as with yet another introduction, his large hand came to rest on Lucius shoulder, his loud laughter and colourful entrance drawing more attention from around the bustling room. 

Just as there had been that day at the Ministry of Magic, there were a few curious stares and raised eyebrows at the sight of Hermione Granger on the arm of Lucius Malfoy. The fact that they had arrived with the Minister, that he was happily making introductions and they were still within his earshot, perhaps curtailed any out loud remarks. Hermione did however notice the odd raised hand, and not so unobvious whisper, eyes cast in their direction, as only Hermione could, and quite possibly would, she caught the eye of the offenders and gave them an overly bright smile.  Most backed down, walking away, spotting an imaginary acquaintance or grabbing a drink from a floating tray.

That same deep, distinctive laugh of Kingsley’s had drawn many eyes in their direction, and just like that day at the Ministry, as Hermione’s eyes drifted around the elegantly decorated room, they clashed with the icy blue of her former boyfriend, even across the room she could tell his words to the woman at his side were neither whispered, nor pleasant.  Ginny’s expression was decidedly more glacial and accusatory than it had been that day at the burrow, even more so as she gestured with her eyes, to where hers and Lucius hands touched. Both of the youngest Weasley children then turned what Hermione could assume was their venomous comments to someone else, or at least it appeared they had intended to, both of them turning to Ginny’s left, where there was, clearly to their surprise, now a small rather obvious space in the crowded room. Their eyes no longer stared coldly in her direction but clearly sought another. Hermione’s own eyes searched the milling throng, she wasn’t entirely sure who she was looking for, Mister or Misses Weasley perhaps, or one of their siblings.

Above the chatter and the music, she heard the occasional greeting, it was impossible over the ambient noise to differentiate between voices, but as they became closer, she didn’t need to recognise voices, out of the crowd she recognised an all too familiar face, and one, with his much taller frame, Kingsley had already spotted and was greeting warmly, and of course vociferously in his deep baritones.

“Harry. I am so glad you could make it on such short notice.”

The Minister of Magic engulfed the younger man in a cloud of deep purple, his smile brighter than any of the candles in the room.

“Off course Kingsley, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Madam President, it is lovely to see you again, and looking as stunning as always.”

Harry respectfully acknowledged Kingsley companion, who graciously and girlishly accepted his compliment.

If Kingsley had not been the centre of attention entirely with his entrance to his birthday party, with Harry’s arrival, the presence of his oldest friend and one time enemy, all eyes were now very much focussed on the small group. All be it surreptitiously, people pretending to drink and chat, all the while their eyes looking in their direction, ears straining for a snippet of the conversation, watching Harry’s reaction to the scene.

Harry and Hermione’s eyes met, and, as was quite often the case with them, there was no exchange of words, just knowing looks, smiles and of course the obligatory hug. As Harry turned his attention to Lucius the surreptitious watching became less furtive and far more obvious. The Boy Who Lived was causing almost as much of a stir as the man whose birthday it was. Harry knew a lot of people were watching him, but he could almost feel Ron and Ginny’s gazes boring into his back, his bespectacled gaze drifted briefly back to the Minister and Head of MACUSA, three sets of eyes exchanged a look, before Harry returned his attention to the former Death Eater.

“Good evening Mister Malfoy, it’s nice to see you again too.”

The younger man ensured his words were loud enough for anyone within earshot to hear, and if they weren’t his outstretched hand would certainly animate the exchange and leave no one in any doubt as to his feelings.

Lucius felt Hermione’s fingers squeeze his arm, out of the corner of his eye he could see the broad smile on her face.  He graciously grasped Harry’s hand shaking it warmly, a grateful smile touched his lips and he inclined head in acknowledgement.

“Thank you, Mister Potter, it is good to see you too.”

Hermione noticed that the whilst the music still played in the background, the chatter levels had diminished somewhat, and many of the guests had given up any pretext of partying and were simply just watching Harry and Lucius. Amongst those who had given up on that very pretext were Ronald and Ginny Weasley, both of whom were staring at their friend and boyfriend respectively. Ronald’s face was almost the same colour as his hair, whilst Ginny looked as she was about to spontaneously combust. Hermione had a feeling it was going to take Harry some time to explain this one, but still engrossed in conversation with Lucius and now Kinsley Shacklebolt and Seraphina Picquery, her oldest friend didn’t seem to care in the slightest.

As a few more moments passed by, Hermione realised that most of the guests assembled around them seemed to lose interest. She had a feeling that their conversations would all be along a very similar line for a while, but Kingsley Shacklebolt was an extremely popular and very well respected Minister of Magic, others accepted what he deemed to be okay. Unless of course your name was Weasley, Hermione also happened to observe a rather animated, dare she suggest heated exchange going on between Arthur and Molly, whom she caught sight of over the other side of the room.

As if there was ever any doubt, the young witch knew that the wise Minster was of course right, by the time she and Lucius returned from the US no one would give their being together a second thought, unless of course your name was Weasley.

The Minister and Madam Picquery left Hermione, Lucius and Harry to mingle and accept more birthday greetings.

Harry still had his back to Ginny and Ron, shorter than himself Harry knew Hermione would not be able to see either of them, his question was therefore with some amusement and irony addressed to Lucius, whose height enabled him to see clearly across the crowded room.

“I assume Mister Malfoy, I am still picking daggers out of my back.”

Lucius glanced immediately over Harry’s shoulder, in all honesty he hadn’t taken any notice of what was going on outside of his immediate circle, but catching sight of Arthur Weasley’s two youngest offspring, it didn’t take him long to realise what Harry meant.

“Oh I see.” A rather rueful smile curved Lucius’ mouth.

“I think Mister Potter, I would perhaps even go as far to say, if there was a clear path to you, a hex or even two might have been winging its way in this direction.”

Hermione couldn’t contain the giggle that escaped her lips, Lucius’ comment, despite its accuracy, his tone of voice and the look on Harry’s face were all quite priceless.

“I do understand.” Said Harry on a more serious note. “Well Ron I do, but I know Ginny is more pissed at me because she is going to know I knew about this and didn’t say anything.”

Harry shrugged his shoulders in a resigned fashion, dating a fiery redhead had its plusses but it also had it minuses.

Hermione saw a twinkle in Lucius’ eyes, before that same more serious note settled in their depths.

“Mister Potter after everything you have done in your short life, the people you have stood up to, myself, and my son included, I am sure Arthur Weasley’s youngest child will pose you little trouble.”

Harry’s brows raised behind his glasses, he exchanged a look with Hermione, his green eyes coming back to the Dark Wizard, who was himself casting a glance in Ginny Weasley’s direction. As his silver blue eyes returned to the younger wizard, he no longer seemed quite so sure of himself.

“However, knowing Molly as I do, and Arthur come to that, perhaps I would not like to find myself in your shoes.”

Harry couldn’t help himself, laughing aloud at Lucius Malfoy’s observation.

Lucius became serious once more.

“Whilst I do not like the idea that I have got you in to difficulty with your girlfriend and her family, I am very grateful to you.”

Harry appreciated Lucius’ words, it wasn’t the first time his actions had got him into strife with the Weasley family, and dating Ginny, he very much doubted it would be the last and as Lucius had also said, he’d found himself in deeper water in his time.

“Don’t worry Mister Malfoy, I….”

“Lucius, please.”

Harry nodded at his request, their conversation interrupted by the arrival of Draco and Astoria.

The younger Malfoy was clearly caught a little off guard seeing his father embroiled in conversation with his onetime school nemesis. But he remembered where he was, who he was with and that they were no longer at school, well almost.

“Potter.” Draco said in a familiar tone, casting a glance amongst the others.

Before anyone else could speak, Hermione had burst into a fit of giggles, the assembled eyes all falling on her now, probably wondering if someone had slipped a laughing potion in her champagne.

“I’m sorry” She said, still trying desperately to contain her laughter.

“It’s that bloody day in Flourish and Blotts again.”

Astoria clearly had no idea what she was talking about, and whilst the three men knew exactly what she was referring to, they clearly didn’t know why it warranted quite so much laughter, after all the exchange at the time had been far from pleasant.  Lucius unconsciously twisted his serpent headed cane between his fingers as they waited patiently for Hermione to explain. The action started the giggles all over again, this time Hermione’s hand flew to her mouth in an attempt to supress her laughter.

Even Harry and Draco exchanged confused looks.

“It was your fault Draco.” She accused.

The younger Malfoy looked suitably horrified, all eyes now on him.

“Me?” He said with the same horror that was reflected in his face. “All I said was ….”

“Potter.” Hermione supplied for him for fear that him saying it again would start the entire process of uncontrollable giggling. It suddenly occurred to her that no one else was going to find this in the least bit funny and she was going to look very foolish.

“Hilarious” Said Draco exchanging another confused look with Harry and looking a little bit miffed in the process.

“Do you remember the day I mean, just before our second year at Hogwarts, Gilderoy Lockhart was in the shop signing his books.”

She omitted to mention it was the year the Chamber of Secrets was reopened, she didn’t want to stir up too many old unpleasant memories, although she wasn’t getting off to a very good start.

Lucius, Draco and Harry all nodded, Astoria continued to look blankly at them all, clearly waiting for someone to explain, and why this was so funny.

“Draco, you were being mean to Harry about Ginny. You called him Potter, in that same tone of voice you just used, at which point your father came into the store, he put his cane on your shoulder and said…”

“Now now Draco play nicely.”

It was Lucius cold clipped voice which supplied the end of the sentence and Hermione’s mouth began to crinkle once more with laughter, even if she was a little surprised that he remembered it quite so well.

Harry and Astoria also caught on to the amusement, which still seemed to be going over poor Draco’s head.

“I just had this feeling of déjà vu, that your father was going to say the same thing to you, tell you and Harry to play nicely.”

Hermione didn’t want to make Draco feel silly, the tale of the biting mandrake had just been between them, involving Harry might not be so funny to the young wizard, but suddenly he seemed to catch on to the joke, and seeing the funny side, he too began to laugh.

It was quite a sight, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Lucius and Draco Malfoy all laughing together, although no one seemed to be taking that much notice, unless of course your name was Weasley.

Draco of course couldn’t resist just a little pop at Harry, but it was good natured enough, especially after what he had witnessed him do for his father.

“So you did get yourself a girlfriend then Potter.” He said in that same childish voice.

Harry screwed up his face in a similar childlike fashion.

“I did, although I am not sure for how much longer after this though.”

This time is was Draco who cast a furtive look in Ginny Weasley’s direction, fortunately, she was engrossed in some more very animated conversation with her brother, and was not looking at them. Clearly, he had a similar line of thought to his father, remembering that in the old bookshop she’d stood up to him.

“A fiery pureblood redhead, who happens to be a Weasley, good luck with that.”

Harry was a little taken aback by Draco’s easy manner with him, but he guessed that was all down to Hermione and even Mister…. Lucius. He couldn’t conceal an acquiescent smile, Draco Malfoy, like his father was not wrong with his observation.

“Perhaps I should go over and say something.” Hermione mused aloud, regaining all of their attention.

“They are my friends.”

Ever the soft, caring heart, whatever Ronald and Ginny’s harsh and accusatory words were, Hermione did not want to knowingly hurt them or make them feel she was casting aside her oldest friends.

Lucius and Draco exchanged somewhat anxious looks, neither of them felt of a mind to talk Hermione out of anything, and they certainly couldn’t argue with what she said.

Harry for his part and from painful experience, knew that more often than not telling Hermione not to do something had the reverse effect.

“It would appear that the decision is no longer yours to make my dear.”

Taller than the other four, Lucius had an unobscured view across the room.  His voice was as clipped as ever, its aristocratic tone, lifting just above the ambient noise, her raised a dark blonde brow, inclining his head slightly, he adjusted his stance on the cane clutched between his fingers.

Hermione caught his line of vision peering between Draco and Astoria.

Picking their way through various guests, and walking purposely across the room, it appeared that Ronald and Ginny Weasley had something to say to her……

 


End file.
